Till all are none
by Taipan Kiryu
Summary: G1. Megatron comes to the idea of turning his aerial elite into a combiner team. Will Starscream, Skywarp, Thundercracker, Ramjet, Dirge and Thrust be able to put aside their differences and merge into one single giant robot?
1. Seeker soup

_Author's notes: Yes, I __know I have other stories in progress, but I came into this idea during shower and it had to be written. Isn't shower the source of endless creativity (or insanity, same thing)? _

_Anyway, I hope you will enjoy this. I found it quite amusing to write._

_Thank yous and hugs__ to KayDeeBlu for beta reading this chapter._

* * *

**Till all are none**

**Chapter 1**

**Seeker soup**

Megatron evilly narrowed his optics as the right side of his face was illuminated by the shine of a very close explosion that half destroyed the door.

Such circumstances never used to be isolated events. Another shot shook the room and a cloud of black smoke announced the violent entrance of Skywarp to the Command Center, a sharp red object in his hands, his body convulsing clear signals of having been the target of a certain null ray. His right shoulder was a sparking hole of exposed circuitry.

A shivering Starscream walked behind, limping, his cockpit falling in pieces.

"Megatron! What are you doing here?" he asked as soon as he caught sight of his leader.

"And just what am I supposed to be doing, stupid? This is my base, isn't it?" the Decepticon Commander angrily replied as he got up from his seat. "Put your weapons down! You better start explaining what in the Pit is going on here before I permanently separate your head from your body, Starscream!"

The addressed Seeker pointed an accusing finger at Skywarp, who was uselessly trying to get up, still shaken by the effects of his Air Commander's null ray.

"It's Skywarp! For some reason only his idiotic mind comprehends, he thought it would be funny to detonate a cluster bomb under my recharge berth and nearly blew my entire mid section!"

"My bad, the original target was your aft!" a very offended Skywarp stated.

"Why you…!"

"Silence!" Megatron roared. "How many times do I have to tell you not to…? Skywarp, is _that_ one of Starscream's air intakes?"

The black and purple Seeker smiled innocently and glanced at the object in his hand.

"Huh… seems so…"

"See?! Do you see that, Megatron?! The fragger dared to mutilate me!"

Megatron placed his hands behind his back and started to walk from one side to the other, trying to calm his temper.

Children, that's what they were. His aerial elite, pride of the Cybertron War Academy were nothing more than a bunch of microchip morons that behaved worse than sparklings. He cursed himself for the umpteenth time for having allowed the Seekers to have such a high rank in the Decepticon hierarchy.

"Cargo ships… that's what they should be… though they are so stupid they would certainly fail at that too…" Megatron mumbled to himself.

"Stupid soldiers are the result of a defficient Commander, Megatron! Why don't you show some leadership for a change and punish a very obvious disrespectful attack against your Second in Command?"

Starscream was so furious that he didn't noticed he had crossed the imaginary line he should keep by rule from his leader in situations like that until it was too late. A dark hand closed around his neck and he was violently shoved toward the floor. He fell beside Skywarp, a painful reminder of why it was always wise to keep some physical distance toward the silver tyrant.

However, making good use of his new position at the floor, Starscream pounced at his wingmate, trying to get his air intake back. The black and purple Seeker, already recovered from the effects of the null ray, counterattacked with equal violence, not willing to give up his macabre trophy.

"ENOUGH!"

A very convenient fusion cannon blast impacted between both Seekers, making them quickly separate.

"Watch out, Megatron! You almost blew off my other air intake!" Starscream complained.

Skywarp burst in laughter. "A shame he didn't! You would've looked more symmetric, Screamer."

"This is the last time I demand you to stop calling me that!"

A new violent outburst was interrupted when Megatron roughly held both Seeker's heads and crashed them against each other. Feeling disgusted by the painful groans coming from his subordinate's vocalizers, Megatron disdainfully kicked both fliers away from him.

"It's bad enough you waste my valuable resources in your pathetic fights and now you dare to make me lose my precious time as well!" he yelled.

Starscream was the first to get to his knees, still rubbing his sore head. "It's all Skywarp's fault, Megatron! He did the stupid prank and resisted against a punishment he clearly deserved!"

"Liar! Megatron, my leader, I assure you I did it to boost the morale of the crew of this base. And how wasn't I supposed to resist, if Screamer tried to snatch my spark away?"

"I swear it, Skywarp, if you call me that again…!"

"DOESN'T ANY OF YOU UNDERSTAND THE MEANING OF THE WORD SILENCE??"

The two jets held back the wave of curses that was about to erupt from their vocalizers and flinched. No matter how serious their current issue was, they both knew they couldn't allow to really annoy Megatron.

"Get up, pair of imbeciles, and go get yourselves repaired. You are an embarrasement for the Decepticon Empire. I don't know why you dare to call yourselves elite warriors. You have been part of the same trine for millions of years and still you are not able to function like a barely organized aerial unit."

Starscream and Skywarp picked they shattered structures from the floor and bowed their heads. Skywarp was still holding Starscream's air intake.

"Listen very carefully. This is the last time, the last one, that you waste the resources of the Repair Bay fixing the consequences of your childish disputes. Next time you will look for spare parts in the disposal units, is that clear?"

Two somber voices could be heard in response. "Yes, Megatron…"

"Retire to your quarters now. I don't want to see your pathetic faces until further notice."

Not daring to look at their leader's optics, the scolded Seekers walked out. Right before they reached the half ripped door of the Command Center, Starscream violently pushed Skywarp aside and recovered his air intake. Skywarp glanced uneasily from his running wingmate to his leader before teleporting out.

Megatron shook his head. He was wrong. They were worst than sparklings…

* * *

"Course of action not recommended."

The monotonic voice reverberated through the wide but austere personal quarters of Megatron.

"I thought you would say so, Soundwave," Megatron replied as he annalyzed for the umpteenth time in the night the six diagrams and technical specifications displayed on the screen of his computer.

"Subjects: incompatible. Merge: inconceivable," the Communication Officer insisted.

"Spare me the obvious. What is exactly going through your logics?"

Soundwave relaxed a little. Alone with Megatron, he didn't have to follow the rigid protocol, but still some habits were hard to leave aside.

"Seekers have erratic mind patterns. Their arrogance disqualifies them as proper candidates for a combiner team."

"Still, they are highly efficient operating in trines."

"Affirmative. Trine work is based on the organized function of independent individuals. Combiner team: totally different situation."

Megatron placed his right hand under his chin and remained silent for some seconds. Generally Soundwave was the voice of reason itself, but Megatron hadn't reached the position of Supreme Commander of all Decepticons by being particularly cautious. Risks had to be taken sometimes. War, as illogical as it was, always had place for surprises.

"Suggestion noted but ignored", he finally said. "Summon the subjects at 2300 hours of the next solar cycle in the Command Center. We will put this plan in motion right away."

"As you command, Megatron," Soundwave replied, taking slightly more time than usual in procceeding to fulfill his Commander's orders.

Megatron smirked when he noticed the insignificant disturbance on his lieutenant. Yes, the Decepticon leader was definitely in the mood for challenging the inconceivable.

* * *

At exactly the 2305 hours of the next solar cycle, six Seekers were standing uneasy at the Command Center of the Nemesis base.

Notoriously separated from the rest of their wingmates, Thrust, Dirge and Ramjet were leaning on a bulkhead, aggressive grimaces adorning their facial features.

"I tell you morons, if you three got us in trouble again, you will have to look for your arm cannons inside your afts," growled Ramjet.

"And why are you staring at me, Conehead?" an angry Thundercracker shot back. "I know the same as you about this non expected reunion."

Too busy exchanging murderous looks and imagining sadistic ways to get rid of each other, Starscream and Skywarp were oblivious to the presence of the other four fliers, which left Thundercracker in a very precarious situation. As always, he would have to intervene if his two wingmates decided to take their eternal quarrel to physical violence once again, and also he would have to take the responsibility of defending his trine if the Coneheads became aggressive. Whatever it happened, he was doomed.

"But who does that junk pile thinks he is? Making me wait! ME, Starscream!"

The Air Commander's complaints were ignored, as usual. Fortunately, the authoritative steps of Megatron could be heard soon and ended the tension that threatened to turn into insubordination.

The six Seekers aligned themselves in military formation as their leader entered the Command Center and sat on his throne. Behind him, Soundwave walked in, glancing at the fliers the same way he would have looked at a bunch of dying petro rabbits.

"Finally, Megatron!" spat Starscream. "I put aside really urgent things for coming to your stupid meeting. I hope it is important or so help me I…"

A sudden blast from Megatron's fusion cannon impacted Starscream's shoulder and violently threw him backward. His wingmates stared at him with horror and straightened up immediately, their faces the image of discipline itself.

"Now that I have your attention, I shall procceed to inform the reason of your presence here, unless, of course, someone else has another disagreement," Megatron said as he oscilated his always dangerous right arm.

Nobody said a word. Starscream began to get up, never taking his glance off his leader. The shot he received wasn't at full power, showing the not so aggressive intentions of Megatron, if such a thing existed.

"For millions of years, I have given the Seekers the role as the main base of my army," the Decepticon Commander continued. "Today I question myself about such decision. The poor military and personal performance you have showed, despite considering yourselves the best fliers of all Cybertron, forces me to reconsider."

Despite the painful corrective he had received, Starscream wasn't going to keep his vocalizer shut.

"Reconsider? What are you talking about, Megatron?"

"Changes, Starscream. I'm talking about changes."

"But why…?"

"Changes that will begin to happen immediately. Know this: from this moment on, all of you are relieved from your respective wingmates. You will no longer operate in trines."

Confusion made its appearance on the six addresssed faces. Unconsciously, the Seekers broke their formation to look at each other in search for an explanation they didn't dare to request.

"From today on, you will be assigned to only one wingmate, which means you will fly in pairs. Is that clear?"

Five pairs of optics targeted Starscream, waiting for him to give voice to the question they all wanted to ask. Fortunately for them, their cocky Air Commander didn't disappoint them.

"Pairs?! Are you insane, Megatron? We Seekers function in trines. Pair formations are destined to failure in battle. History records are not mistaken."

"I will decide what's destined to failure and what is not, Starscream. All of you will obey my orders without complaining. I will consider any objection as a personal offense, so if you value your lives you will follow blindly my instructions."

Starscream closed his fists with impotence but managed to remain silent. Beside him, a shivering Dirge raised his hand.

"What is it, Dirge?"

"Huh… Lord Megatron, sir… with all the respect I would like to ask what is the purpose of this… new strategy… sir…"

"You will be notified when the time comes. As for now, Soundwave will inform you the conformation of the pairs and your new assignations."

"What? Are you going to change our assignations too?" Starscream asked, unable to remain silent for an astro second more, but trying to keep his voice tone in a respectful range.

Megatron shot a dirty look at him but didn't say anything in response. He addressed Soundwave instead.

"Soundwave, procceed."

Soundwave nodded and stepped in front of his six companions in arms. For the first time the Seekers fully aknowledged his presence and more than one felt a cold chill when they suspected the mocking smirk hidden behind that stoic face mask.

But there was no time to carefully annalyze the probable emotions of their Communications Officer. Soundwave's monotonic voice began to speak with the same usual coldness.

"Starscream and Ramjet, Thundercracker and Dirge, Thrust and Skywarp, step forward and align yourselves beside your new wingmates."

The Seekers glanced at each other, confusion growing bigger.

"W-what...? But… do we have to separate?" Dirge stammered, already suffering the absence of Thrust and Ramjet.

Megatron grimaced with contempt. "It's precisely because of this kind of cheap sentimentalism that you must separate. You have been together for millenias and your affinities and differences have turned into a vicious circle of conformism, restraining your potential."

The new pairs alligned awkwardly. The uneasy looks on their faces proved just how much they didn't trust in their new companions.

"This is insane, Megatron!" Starscream finally exploded. "Even though they are nothing more than two disgusting junk morons, I'm used to flying with Skywarp and Thundercracker. What the slag am I suppose to do with Ramjet?!"

"You can try crashing against him. He likes that," suggested Thrust.

"Hey, who did you just call junk moron, Starscream?" bellowed Thundercracker, shoving Dirge aside.

"The feeling is mutual, Screamer. Come and let my fist give you some love," Skywarp threatened.

"Everything, Starscream," Megatron replied, ignoring the rant. "I expect you to do everything with your new wingmate, and I expect the same from the rest of you."

Starscream folded his arms across his chest. "Define everything."

Megatron evilly smirked. "From now on, you won't separate from your new companion under any circumstance. That means you will recharge together, energize together, check your systems together, train together, get into combat together, and do whatever you do in your free time together, is that understood?"

Six astonished Seekers stared at their leader with the same disbelief, wondering if their audios had heard correctly.

"Recharge together?" Thrust asked. "As in… recharging in the same berth?"

Megatron rolled his optics. "You will move your personal belongings, including your recharge berths, to the personal quarters of your new companions. The distribution of the quarters, however, will be entirely your decision. Does anybody else has a question that is not a complete stupidity?"

"Can we stay in touch with our former wingmates?"

"Not for the moment, Skywarp. Occasional encounters can't be helped but you won't engage in conversation by any means. By the way, I want to leave very clear that I will consider as high treason any visit to the Repair Bay caused by disagreements with your new wingmates. And I don't need to tell you how I handle high treason situations."

"This is absurd, Megatron! I insist, what is the purpose of all this nonsense?!"

"You will know when the time is right, Starscream."

Without saying another word and leaving a universe of doubts behind, Megatron turned around and walked out of the Command Center.

Despite their confusion, the Seekers didn't repress the chill that assaulted their cores when they noticed the bizarre image of Soundwave cackling, the most absolute mockery exposed in his perfect harmonics.

Such a demoniac sound could only mean one thing: big trouble.

_To be continued._

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_Please leave me your comments and suggestions. Thanks for reading :o)_


	2. Your quarters or mine?

_Thanks so much people __ for your wonderful response to this story. Your reviews have been very helpful. Big hugs to iratepirate for beta reading._

**Chapter 2**

**Your quarters or mine?**

Thundercracker stepped back and leaned his hand on the wall, his face suddenly shaken by a brutal punch that almost threw him to the floor.

Almost.

"Slag…" Dirge growled, shaking his sore fist.

"My turn now," Thundercracker said, recovering his balance and advancing toward the Conehead with a killer glare in his optics.

"Wait!" Dirge cried. "There's no need to continue this… You are not on the floor, it would be pointless… I think it's very clear you have the right to decide…"

"We both agreed on the deal. The one who remains standing keeps his quarters."

"Well, you are on your feet, aren't you? I accept my defeat. Your quarters it will be, then. Let's move on."

"We said one hit each."

"Er… Is there a possibility to change the conditions of our agreement?"

"Would you stop being a coward for a fragging astro second and honour your word, Conehead? I curse the moment you were assigned as my wingmate!"

Thundercracker wasn't normally a violent mech, but Dirge had hit him with excessive force and retaliation had to be taken. There was a status to maintain and, despite the fact that he was forced to work with the Conehead now, his superior rank within the Decepticon hierarchy couldn't be stepped on.

Dirge started to back away until an inconvenient wall got in his way. He was doomed.

"Your personal quarters are fine, TC, honestly! I have no problem in moving in there…"

"Of course you won't have any problem, Dirge, because from now on you will avoid messing with me. And don't call me TC! Only my friends call me that and you are definitely not on that list."

"You slagging creation of a.... yeeeaaarrrgghhh!!"

Dirge's head dented the wall before the Conehead fell noisily to the floor.

Thundercracker opened and closed his fist, satisfied. The immediate relief of vengeance filled his spark.

"Deal concluded," he spat.

"You pit face fragger… you didn't have to hit me so hard…" Dirge complained as he laboriously got up.

"You weren't exactly soft with me. Now stop whining and take only your basic belongings to my quarters. The sooner we are done with this, the better."

"The sooner we are done with what? I don't even know why I have to be your slagging wingmate."

"That makes two of us."

Dirge scratched his head, forgetting for the moment his anger toward his companion.

"Mmmhh… Could it be perhaps because we are both, you know, blue?"

Thundercracker remained in silence for a moment, fighting back his urgency to send his new wingmate back to the floor.

"Primus, Dirge… You are such a dimwit. Vector Sigma must have really hated you to create you with that joke of a processor."

---------------

"Hey, love birds! When is the wedding?"

Brusquely, Skywarp turned around and raised his arm-mounted machine guns toward the pair of Cassetticons that were bent in two because of their laughter.

"Shut your trap hole, Rumble! I'm not in the mood today."

Screechy guffaws followed Skywarp and Thrust as they advanced through the corridor.

"Which one of you two suckers is the female?" Rumble continued mocking.

This time Skywarp's answer was in the shape of laser fire. Rumble and Frenzy barely dodged the deadly attack.

"Be careful, Skywarp. Megatron assigned Soundwave to be in charge of this operation and it's not wise to deactivate his dearest creations."

"An insult to intelligence, that's what those little pests are…"

"Would you stop complaining? I'm as comfortable as you with this new arrangement."

"Oh, you don't like huh? And you're gonna hate it, make no mistake about that. I will make sure that every moment being my wingmate will be a nightmare for you, Conehead."

"You are not exactly a pleasant companion… and stop calling me Conehead, you glitch face! It's not my fault we are in this predicament!" Thrust said, poking Skywarp's chest with his finger.

"Hands off, you moron, unless you want to lose that ugly cone you have for a head!"

Skywarp violently pushed Dirge away, making him crash against the wall. An equal answer immediately took place, and in a matter of astro seconds both Seekers were exchanging punches.

However, the fight didn't last. A half opened door got in their way and welcomed them to the floor.

"Get off me, you slag!" Thrust cried trying to push his new wingmate away.

Skywarp gave him a last punch before realizing they had reached their destination.

"So these are your personal quarters, Thrust? Very spacious. I must admit I'm not that displeased."

"Told you so," Thrust replied, making good use of Skywarp's distraction and impacting a revengeful fist on his face.

However, the black Seeker didn't seem to acknowledge pain, absorbed as he was analyzing his surroundings.

"Not bad…" continued Skywarp as he picked himself up from his shaken wingmate. "But I still don't understand how you handled being here all the time with Ramjet and Dirge."

"We are a trine and function as such. Maybe if your trine hadn't been a complete disgrace as a team we would have avoided all this."

Skywarp expressed his contempt with a proper grimace. "Yes, you three were the perfect trine… the perfect trine of incompetence. Your incredibly high record of failure proves it, so don't you dare to talk to me about trines. No wonder why you were always considered second-class Seekers. You should feel honoured that you were assigned as my wingmate. Open your processor and stop talking nonsense, and perhaps you'll learn something."

"How dare you, you big mouth?! I'm one of the best fliers of Cybertron!"

"Childish acrobatics and brusque rotations in mid air don't mean you're a good flier. You are nothing more than a pathetic public spectacle if you ask me."

"Enough!" Thrust exploded, pointing his missile launchers at Skywarp. "You're going to shut it or so help me…"

"Careful, Thrustie. If you even dare to scratch my paintjob, I'll make sure you receive the proper punishment for high treason. I'm Megatron's favourite Seeker, so don't you try anything stupid."

"You… you…" Thrust growled as he put down his weapons.

Skywarp evilly smirked. "I'm glad we are reaching an agreement. Now let's see… I want the recharge berth of the left, the big one."

"That's Dirge's."

"Not anymore. And make sure you take the one on the right. I want you as far away from me as possible, got it?"

Thrust muttered a colorful mixture of Cybertronian insults as he started to improvise a barricade with the furniture scattered around the room. Divisions had to be established and he didn't feel comfortable with having the most infamous prankster of the base at such short distance.

"You are wasting your time," he heard from the other side of the desk he had just put between him and a smiling Skywarp.

"What do you mean?"

"I can teleport, you know…"

Thrust cursed himself in silence. Time seemed to be turning into something painful and unbearable now.

He really missed Dirge and Ramjet.

--------------

Starscream shifted position on his berth for the umpteenth time during what had to be a regular and relaxed recharge cycle.

But what had to be was no more, thanks to the insane ideas that came out from whatever Megatron had instead of a processor.

Now not only Starscream's position as Aerial Commander was threatened, but he had been forced to renounce one of his most sacred treasures: his privacy.

On his knees, with his head buried between his hands and his face trying to penetrate the flexible surface of his recharge berth, Starscream raised his glance toward the hateful figure standing just some mecano meters from him.

Megatron must have been doing all this to torture him. What other explanation could there be?

"Would you stop doing whatever you are doing and enter recharge mode, Ramjet? I'm trying to rest here!"

Ramjet looked over his shoulder toward the distressed Seeker, momentarily forgetting the existence of the ten monitors on the wall that were displaying images of human vehicles crashing against each other and buildings being demolished.

"I'm bored," he complained.

"That's not my slagging problem! Soundwave said he would give us our new assignations at exactly 0006 terrestrial hours and I haven't recharged a single breem! Turn those screens off and stop making those fragging noises!"

"What noises?"

"Those noises! Just stop them!"

Ramjet looked at his chest and laughed. "Oh, this! You'll have to get used to that. My inner circuitry is always noisy."

"It wouldn't be if you would stop crashing against everything you see and damaging your circuits so recklessly."

"Nah… that would be even more boring that being with you right now, and I bet you I'm bored!"

"I don't care a pit about your moods!" Starscream shrieked with his most screechy tone of voice. "Enter recharge mode now! It's an order!!"

"Frag… you really have serious mental issues."

"Nothing compared to the ones you will have if you keep disobeying me. These are my slagging personal quarters and I am your slagging superior officer, so do as I say!!"

Ramjet shot a killer glare at Starscream but turned off the monitors very carelessly.

"Be careful, you idiot! That is delicate equipment," Starscream complained.

"Correction, my slagging superior officer. Now it's also _my_ delicate equipment."

Starscream sat on his recharge berth and fixated all the hatred of his red optics on his wingmate.

"I'm going to say this only once, so make sure you understand it, Ramjet. Nothing inside this room belongs to you, nothing. If you keep your filthy hands away from my belongings and don't trespass the borders of the space I assigned you, you may survive this experience. Otherwise…"

"You can't damage me. Don't forget what Megatron said."

"You should've realized a long time ago that I don't give a slag about what Megatron says!"

Ramjet frowned, looking at the improvised division line on the floor that had been made with all the brutal subtlety of a laser beam.

"Not fair… My side of the room is much more smaller than yours," he complained.

"That's because my rank is infinitely superior to yours, not to mention the fact that these are my personal quarters in the first place!"

"We would be better in my quarters…"

"I won't renounce the privileges of being Second in Command to move into spaces proper of plebeians like you. And as I was saying, don't even think about getting close to my cleaning unit, my energon stock and even less my laboratory. Everything here belongs to me and it's exclusive for my personal use. Is that understood?"

"I love your generosity."

"Now enter recharge mode before I make you with a null ray."

"Whatever you say, Starsqueen."

"Don't call me that!"

"Sure thing, Starsqueen."

---------------------

Sitting on a wide chair, a high-grade energon cube in his right hand and both legs comfortably leaning on the console of his computer, Megatron watched with an evil grin the three monitors before his optics.

"You won't deny it's amusing, Soundwave."

"Denial impossible," the Communications Officer answered, standing beside his leader.

"Almost an entire solar cycle and they still haven't destroyed each other. You owe me ten thousand energon credits."

"Cycle not finished yet."

Megatron burst out in laughter. "You refuse to accept your defeat, I see. But any hopes you may have concerning their soon deactivation are pointless. By forming the pairs based on their similarities, I made sure to avoid immediate disputes that could lead to permanent stasis. Those little domestic quarrels they are having were totally expected."

"Affirmative, but their ability to function together is questionable. Possibility of actual combiner team working: too remote to even calculate probabilities."

Megatron took a sip from his energon cube, his glance still fixated on the three monitors. The first one displayed Thundercracker and Dirge in recharge mode, their berths as separated from each other as was mathematically possible. On the second screen, Skywarp seemed to be pleasantly recharging as Thrust shot him distrustful glances from behind a barricade made of a desk and chairs. The third monitor showed Starscream switching the aim of his weapons from Ramjet to his own head, like deciding which processor would be better target for his null rays under the current circumstances. Ramjet was moving restlessly on his recharge berth, muttering something obviously only he was able to understand.

"Your Cassettes were very effective installing those surveillance cameras, Soundwave. Not even Starscream's advanced security system was able to detect them. Monitoring what those idiots do will give us the clue that will allow them to become one."

"Fusion: dangerous."

"The lives of six warriors are dispensable."

"Risk doesn't concern them, but you, Megatron."

Megatron glanced at his lieutenant. "I have obviously calculated any possibility of treason. Skywarp is blindly loyal to me, so are Ramjet, Dirge and Thrust. Thundercracker's lack of conviction makes him inoffensive, and Starscream is no more dangerous to me than he used to be. In other words, risk is null."

"Behaviour resulting of mind merge: unpredictable."

"Every combiner team has erratic elements, but their level of treason descends considerably with only one of their members being loyal to me, or fearing me, same thing. Whatever comes from the union of my Seekers won't be the exception."

Soundwave remained in silence. He stared pensively at the three screens displaying what the surveillance cameras were registering. _Big Brother, _Rumble and Frenzy had said, referring to some emission from the human communications net. Despite the morbid contents and total lack of logic of such massive products, the term 'reality show' was quite intriguing.

"Make sure to have them all ready and energized in exactly 10 breems, Soundwave. It's time to test their coordination."

"Failure predicted."

Megatron narrowed his optics evilly. "We shall see. They will succeed or I will destroy them in the process."

Soundwave smirked under his facemask, his sadistic side suddenly awoken.

_To be continued._

_Please keep letting me know your opinions; suggestions are always welcomed. Thanks in advance :o)_


	3. The principles of discoordination

**Chapter**** 3**

**The principles of discoordination**

Thrust remained silent. His facial features hardened as he slowly scratched one side of his head.

"Come on…" Skywarp pressured.

No answer.

"Would you hurry up, Thrust? I don't have the rest of eternity."

"Leave me alone, will you? I'm thinking."

"As I said, I can't wait that long."

Thrust tried to focus as his processor worked harder than it did in an entire vorn.

"Come on, Conehead! Hurry up, frag it! Is it so difficult to guess what I'm thinking?"

"Silence! I'm doing my best! Alright, let's see… Is there any chance you are thinking of mmmhh…. femmes?"

Skywarp smirked. "Predictable, huh? But you're wrong. I was thinking of breaking your ugly face."

Thrust was shaken by a strong electric shock courtesy of an army of thin cables connected to his body. Skywarp, who also had the annoying cables attached to his structure, waited until the cry of pain of his wingmate reached its highest pitch before releasing the button of the device in his hand.

"Y-you fragger! W-was that really necessary?" Thrust stammered once he was able to speak again.

"But of course. How will you be able to coordinate with my processor otherwise? A small corrective will make you try harder next time. My turn now."

Thrust hit his cheeks and shook his head, totally recovering from the electric shock.

"I'm ready. Tell me what I'm thinking," he said.

Skywarp narrowed one of his optics. "Let me guess… Revenge?"

Thrust's finger stopped right before pushing the infamous button on his respective device.

"Curse you!" he complained in frustration.

Skywarp burst in laughter. "You are more predictable than me, Conehead! I can read you like a datapad."

"Shut up! This exercise is a waste of time! Why the slag would I want to know what you think, anyway?"

"Ask Soundwave."

"To the pit with Soundwave! I'm tired of receiving electric shocks and I'm tired of putting up with you! I'm out of here!" Thrust cried as he began to disconnect one of the cables attached to his chest.

"Will you disobey a direct order from Megatron, Thrust? I'll make sure to desecreate your crypt often, don't worry. If you ever get one, that is. Have you heard of a human activity called graffiti?"

Thrust hesitated. His hand released the cable he had been so close to snatch away.

"Good boy," Skywarp continued, satisfied that the cowardice of the Conehead worked every time. "Let's continue, shall we?"

"Keep your finger away from that button, Skywarp. I can assure you this time that you want to electrocute me again."

The dangerous thumb of the black Seeker danced over his objective.

"Perhaps you are right… or perhaps not!" he cheered as he pushed the button, releasing another electric shock over his wingmate.

"Yeeeaaarrrghhh!! Why did you do that??!! I predicted your thoughts, I'm sure I did!"

"True… but you didn't guess I was going to electrocute you anyway, no matter what you said."

"Aaaawww! Stop it!" Thrust complained again as he received another small discharge.

"Oops, my finger slipped."

"So did mine!"

This time it was Skywarp who received the electrical attack. Blinded by his desire for retaliation, Thrust punched the button without mercy, with no sign of him stopping.

"STOP IT!!! YOU'RE FRYING ME, YOU FRAGGER!!" Skywarp cried, his body twisting in pain.

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you. My audio sensors must be failin… Aaaaaarrrgghhh!!"

Despite his agony, Skywarp managed to push the button and suddenly both Seekers were performing a bizarre dance of pain as grey smoke began to seep out from their bodies.

The lights of the huge training room flickered until they completey shut off. Skywarp and Thrust fell heavily on the floor, still shaken by the remains of the brutal electric shocks.

Almost an entire breem had passed. Skywarp was the first to recover consciousness.

"T-Thrust… are you functioning?" he asked.

"Thrust… Who is Thrust?"

"You are, you moron."

"Right, that's my denomination… Yes… I'm functioning… What about you?"

"I think I am… I didn't hurt you too much, did I?"

"Are you concerned about me?"

"Don't be ridiculous. It's just that Megatron said he wouldn't tolerate it if we seriously damaged each other…"

"He did? Oh yes… he did… I remember now… No, you didn't burn any important circuits. And you? Did I fry you?"

"Ha! The Autobots would win the war before you could seriously harm me, Conehead."

"Skywarp?"

"What?"

"I really hate you."

"Good to know. Our exercise worked, then."

"Why do you say so? We blew up the entire electrical system of this training room. Scrapper will have our afts for this."

"So what? Wasn't the main purpose of this practice to find some sort of communion between our thoughts?"

"That's what Mr. Emotional Soundwave said, sort of..."

"Then the exercise was a complete success, because I hate you too, Thrust."

----------------------

Thin and interweaved green lines reflected on the dark face that showed among the fluorescent tangle of the huge virtual grid as a deadly missile launcher aimed at whatever was ahead, covered by the darkness.

"_Dirge," _the addressed Seeker heard through his com link.

"_What?" _he roughly replied. He really disliked using silent communication with anyone other than Thrust and Ramjet.

"_Would you stop aiming your missile __launchers so recklessly? You're neglecting your left side," _Thundercracker continued through the private channel he had been forced to open in order to communicate with his new wingmate. Rarely did he open it to anyone else other than Starscream and Skywarp.

"_The target can appear any moment," _Dirge replied.

"_Which is why you have to be more careful. Didn't you practice__ this in the Military Academy?"_

"_Thousands of times."_

"_What was your average score?"_

"_Mmmhhh mmmhh…"_

"_That bad?"_

"_Concentration is not my forte… What was your average score, anyway?"_

"_The best of my class."_

"_Good you don't like to show off."_

"_You asked."_

"_Shut it. I'm sick of all this. __We have been here more than two breems and I don't think we have advanced a single mecano meter of this fragging maze. Where are the slagging targets?"_

"_Don't expect them to come to you waiting to be destroyed."_

"_Bah… it would be faster. And why the slag are we talking through our com link, anyway? The targets are not sentient."_

"_But they have sound__ and motion sensors. Besides we are expected to follow the protocol."_

"_You are always sooooo honorable, Thundercracker. Are you sure you don't have an Autobot insignia under your paint job?"_

"_Say that again and I'll blow your head off."_

Dirge turned around and pointed his missile launcher toward his wingmate, who was silently advancing behind him.

"Really? You and what army?" he said in a loud voice.

Thundercracker roughly grabbed Dirge's shoulder and threw him to the floor.

"Target!" he shouted as he fired a laser beam in front of him, inceremoniously stepping over the cone shaped head of his wingmate.

"W-what? Ouch… that hurt," Dirge complained. Behind him rested the mutilated structure of a combat drone that had lost half of its body by the accurate shot from Thundercracker's arm cannon.

"I told you to stay alert," Thundercracker grumbled, brusquely picking up his fallen comrade.

The virtual grid suddenly moved, modifying the surroundings and depriving the Seekers of the fake cover that had protected them until then.

Half a dozen drones raised their weapons and started firing against their surprised victims.

"This way, quick!" Dirge yelled as he jumped toward a hidden space behind one of the vortexes of the virtual grid.

Thundercracker followed and fell over him.

"Are you hurt?" Thundercracker asked, looking at the stain of lubricant on his fingers coming from a fissure on Dirge's shoulder.

"I don't think so. They are only combat drones with stunning cannons… Wait! What is this?! Those fragging things actually damaged me! Are they equipped with real weapons?"

"Seems like it."

"Cursed junk piles! Let's smash them to pieces!"

"Wait, you idiot!"

Dirge disregarded precaution and came out from their hiding spot, blindly shooting a storm of laser fire. Thundercracker shrugged but hurried over to cover his erratic comrade, wondering if it wouldn't be better to allow the drones to deactivate Dirge for a while.

Six combat drones were no match for two elite Seekers of the Decepticon army, but two dozen more surrounded the pair, forcing them to use their more advanced battle skills.

"Aaaarrgghh!! They hit me again!" Dirge cried.

"They are impacting me too! Shut up and keep firing!"

"So much for your battle protocol!"

"I told you to shut it, Dirge, or I will shoot you myself!"

For some reason the argument improved the accuracy of the Seeker's shots and soon no drone remained functional.

Thundercracker kneeled to check a midly serious injure he had received on his right leg.

"Huh… Thundercracker?"

"What? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Is _that_ a simulation?"

Thundercracker raised his head and his optics shined in amazement. A huge robot the size of Omega Supreme advanced toward them.

"A Guardian? Since when is this part of the programming of the battle simulations?" he asked.

"Slag the simulations. Just destroy it!"

The virtual scenario changed again. This time the entire training room seemed to collapse. The floor disappeared and only pieces of metal and dust remained floating in the air, mixed with laser beams and missiles coming from the monstrous Guardian.

"Aaaaaahhh!! Help me!!" Dirge cried as he fell in what to his optics was an abyss.

Thundercracker ignited his thrusters and left the treacherous floor. "Try to calm down, you coward! Don't forget this is only a simulation!"

Ignoring the gigantic robot towering him, Thundercracker abruptly turned around and shot a missile toward a spot at his right.

An explosion returned reality to its place. Chaos and the giant disappeared, leaving a naked and huge training room instead.

"You are such a killjoy, Thundercraphead," a voice said coming from one corner.

The raging optics of said Seeker fixated on Vortex, who was standing beside the entrance of the training room with a remote control in his hand. Swindle and Brawl were standing at his sides.

"They are still functioning, Vortex," Swindle said. "You owe me ten energon cubes."

"Pfffff… Not fair. Thundercraphead cheated. He destroyed the hologram generator."

"Too bad. It would have been priceless to have two Seekers less in the base," Brawl laughed.

"Did you slaggers sabotage our simulation practice?" Dirge shouted, already recovered from his panic attack. "And… and… you bet?!"

"You can _bet _we did," Swindle cackled.

"That was such a bad joke," Brawl said as he hit his companion's head.

"_Dirge,"_Thundercracker silently transmitted, opening again the private channel with his new wingmate.

"_Now what?"_

"_You know… Megatron said we were not allowed to send each other to the Repair Bay."_

"_I already know that, frag it!"_

"_But he didn't say anything about sending external patients."_

"_Oh…"_

Without warning, Thundercracker and Dirge pounced on the three Combaticons. Being outnumbered was no obstacle for both Seekers to satiate their hunger for crushing something.

--------------------

Starscream had no affection for Earth, but certainly the morning marine breeze was the best that had happened to him during the latest two solar cycles.

His radar wasn't showing Ramjet's proximity, so the Air Commander allowed himself the luxury of descending almost until the lower part of his fuselage touched the surface of the ocean. The feeling was almost liberating. A sky under another sky.

A familiar dot in his radar made him forget about the small pleasures of solitude. Starscream gained altitude again. He couldn't allow his subordinate to catch him surrendering to complacent attitudes.

"_Where are you, Screamer? I don't see you," _Ramjet's voice could be heard through Starscream's com link.

"_Use your radar, you idiot. And stop calling me nicknames!"_

"_Whatever you say, Starsqueen… whatever… Ah, I see you there!"_

"_Hurry up then! You are as pathetic as you are slow. Leaving you behind was far too easy."_

"_Would you stop bragging? We are supposed to be practicing our coordination during flight, not testing our speed."_

"_Excuses, excuses. I don't know if you realize the insult of having you as a wingmate."_

"_You are not precisely a lady, Screamer."_

Two laser beams grazed Ramjet's nosecone.

"_WHAT DID I JUST TELL YOU ABOUT THE NICKNAMES?!" _the Air Commander shouted. _"Stop wasting time and follow my lead! If you stray behind again I swear I will take you down!"_

Starscream flew for half a breem with Ramjet following him in silence. Somehow the insane Conehead was managing to keep his superior officer's speed. Starscream decided to accelerate in order to challenge Ramjet's engines.

The result was identical to the one at the beginning of the aerial practice. In just a few astro seconds, Ramjet disappeared from his radar.

"_Slag, Ramjet! You are supposed to stay with me! Does the word aceleration mean anything to you? If I'm going to depend on you during an aerial fight I'm doomed."_

If Starscream was waiting for an answer he wasn't disappointed, although he would have certainly preferred words.

A white demon fell from the sky and Starscream was brutally hit.

"_What __in the pit you think you are doing, you microchip fragger?!!_" the Air Commander cried as he did he best to remain flying. The sea had disappeared and there was only an immense extension of desert beneath. If there was something worse than crashing, it was doing it on a zone in which dust was the king.

"_That was fun! Let's do it again!" _Ramjet happily retorted as he tried to impact Starscream once again.

But the Air Commander was prepared. He avoided the collision and allowed his instincts take over his very small patience. A strong explosion shook the sky and Ramjet's cackles were silenced.

Almost immediately, a red panel inside Starscream's cockpit blinked and the rough and unwelcomed voice of Megatron was heard.

"_Did you just shoot Ramjet, Starscream?"_

"_No."_

"_Don't you dare lie__ to me! I have optics everywhere, you should know that."_

"_If you already know, why do you waste your time asking? Besides, if your pathetic spy satellites work you should have noticed that Ramjet was practically asking for my cluster bombs. __You can't blame me for that."_

"_I'm warning you, Starscream. If you seriously damage any of your wingmates…"_

"_You will turn me into melted metal, I've heard it before. You'd better quit your threats, Megatron. I see Ramjet's energy signature in my radar again. He's still flying."_

"_No thanks to you. Now listen: it's time for you and your wingmate to execute the real purpose of this practice."_

If Starscream would have been in his robot mode, he would have frowned.

"_The real purpose? You said you wanted me to test how much Ramjet could adapt to my flying style."_

"_That is secondary. Right now, as we speak, Soundwave is transmitting Ramjet his instructions. You will follow mine."_

"_What kind of instructions?"_

"_Shut off your engines."_

"_What?"_

"_Didn't you hear me__? I just ordered you to shut off your engines, Starscream!"_

"_Are you insane? What for?"_

"_Let yourself fall."_

"_You really blew a gasket this morning, didn't you, leader? I'm fifteen thousand mecano meters from the ground. I wouldn't survive a fall this high."_

"_Not if your wingmate prevents it."_

"_B-but… are you expecting me to trust that stupid Ramjet will stop me from turning into a pile of junk?!"_

"_That's exactly what I'm expecting you to believe. It's never too late for you to start trusting in your wingmates."_

"_I don't trust anybody, even__ less that maniacal brute!"_

"_Your problem completely. __Let's be realistic, shall we? You have two options: you obey my order, or your free fall will be forced, not voluntary. Blitzwing and Astrotrain have you in shooting range."_

"_Did you order them to follow me?!"_

"_A small precaution to ensure the correct performance of this practice. What will it be, Starscream? You are going down anyway. Will it be with your consent or with your afterburners smoking? I will respect your decision, you have my word on that," _Megatron mocked.

Starscream didn't reply. Megatron wasn't lying, as the two powerful energy signals above him proved. Fighting the Triplechangers in such disadvantageous conditions presented painful consequences. Besides, he was sure Megatron wouldn't be indulgent if his Second in Command ruined whatever crazy experiment he was trying.

Starscream turned off his engines, as well as his com link. The last thing he wanted during his fall was to keep listening to the hateful voice of his leader.

Despite what he had said, it wasn't so hard to decide. Free fall wasn't disagreeable, but quite the opposite. He used to practice it often during his private flights, and he was very capable of avoiding crashing by himself, no matter if Ramjet assisted him or not.

Altitude was a natural motivation in his life, just as speed was. Starscream felt his spark embracing the challenge as the ground came closer and closer to him. He perceived Ramjet's white blurry form approaching.

-----------------

Megatron slowly caressed his chin as he carefully analyzed the image displayed on the screen before him, in which Starscream was falling like a dead weight.

5, 4, 3, 2…

Just as the Decepticon leader had predicted to himself, just a few mecano meters of impacting the ground, Starscream activated his engines and avoided the impact using an impossible gravity-defying manoeuver that only he among all Seekers could perform. Almost immediately he was hit by Ramjet, who arrived too late to perform his role of saviour and somehow tried to redeem himself by crashing into his Air Commander. Immediately, Starscream seeked retaliation.

Despite the practice failing, Megatron smirked. The coordination tests that all six Seekers had performed had given erratic, but promising results.

"You were close. Do it again. You are not allowed to return to base until you succeed," Megatron ordered through his com link, making Ramjet and Starscream stop their skirmish.

Immediate triumph was not expected, after all. Megatron was sure that sooner or later his rebellious and vain Seekers would turn into the most powerful combiner team ever created.

Soon, the Autobots would be doomed.

_To be continued._

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_Thanks you guys for the amazing response to this story. I'm writing it as some sort of slapstick comedy, although I'm trying to respect the character's personalities and including believable situations that would happen if a situation like this ever happened. _

_I deeply thank eeyop1428 for beta reading this chapter. She was very supportive and helpful. I also wrote the part of Thundercracker and Dirge inspired in a review she left. _

_Please keep letting me know your opinions. Your reviews are very helpful. One of them inspired me for next chapter. I will let you know which one in my next update. Thanks in advance!_


	4. The unbearable lightness of teamwork 1

_I apologize for taking some time with this update, but I have other fics in progress and ordinary life doesn't allow me as much time as I would like to have for fanfic writing purposes, but Transformers fanfiction is one of my biggest passions so I will always find time to write the stories that are born in some place of my mind which I have no desire to call a name._

_For this chapter I was inspired by the reviews of flamingmarsh and dixiegurl13. Big thanks to them for the inspiration!_

_I have the main plot of this story solved, but your comments and suggestions are a priceless help to continue the developing of the circumstances to follow, so please keep inspiring me._

_Enough said, I hope you all will enjoy this chapter._

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**Chapter 4**

**The unbearable lightness of teamwork**

**Part one**

General commotions were not extraordinary events within The Ark, the space ship that served as headquarters for the Autobots on Earth. Generally, important conglomerations occurred when some human soap opera or series finished. Since their arrival on the organic planet, the Autobots had been dragged towards such expressions of mass media, though any excuse was good to get together and make good use of the freedom of speech Optimus Prime generally gave to his troops.

But that day no season finale was being played on the human television. The crowd of Autobots gathered in the Ark's Command Center obeyed to different reasons, although they were also displayed on a screen. The huge main monitor of Teletran I was occupied with images of battles. More specifically, with images of battles against the Decepticon Aerial Elite.

"Hey, Blaster, play that part again, you know, when you made those energon cubes explode on Thrust's face!"

Cliffjumper's suggestion was welcomed with enthusiastic approval, followed by the crunchy sound of energon goodies being crushed by a dozen mouth components. Definitely, it was a holiday at The Ark.

"Man, I meant to hit Skywarp, but as any other good Decepticon, the flyboy placed his own safety before others and used his wingmate as a cover," Blaster responded as he played the requested video at different speeds, which increased the amount of guffaws around.

"Enough, Autobots," the voice of Optimus Prime easily imposed over the general gibberish. "We are not before any humorous spectacle here, but an enemy strategy."

"And a very uncommon one, if I may say it Prime."

"Affirmative, Prowl. The Decepticons always strike in groups, but very rarely in pairs."

"And when Seekers are involved, they are always grouped in trios, the cowardly slaggers…" Ironhide growled.

Optimus Prime nodded. "It seems like some sort of test instead of a real energy raid. It can't be that Megatron expected to steal an important amount of energy with so few soldiers. In the beginning I thought it was a distracting maneuver to cover a large scale attack, which is why I ordered the reinforcement of our headquarters' security, but there was no trace of any additional Decepticon activity."

"Which confirms your theory of the entire operation being a test, and we were their guinea pigs, as humans say," the weapons specialist grumbled.

Jazz patted the aloof Autobot's shoulder. "Relax, man, at least we kicked the lubricant out of them, didn't we?"

"Speak for yourself, Jazz. It wasn't you who received that sonic boom from Thundercracker point blank in the face."

"Which reminds me, Ironhide," Wheeljack intervened. "Don't forget to pay a visit to my laboratory. I think I have a replica of your right audio sensor… Otherwise you will have to deal with partial deafness until I manage to build a replacement. It's not common to find pieces that antique these days…"

"Are you calling me an old model?!"

"Enough superficial chat, Autobots," Optimus Prime imposed order once again. "Although the energy extraction was minimal, the Decepticons' attack must be taken seriously. Blaster, play the first video again."

"You got it." The Communications Officer punched a button on the console of Teletran I and an image of two terrestrial primates mating appeared on the screen.

"Oops, wrong data bank…" Blaster hurried to say as he made the alien scene disappear. Laughs and complaints made themselves heard among the crowd.

Optimus Prime shook his head, reproaching himself for being so tolerant with his troops. Sometimes, Megatron's techniques to impose discipline didn't seem so tyrannical after all.

Finally, the correct images took their place on Teletran's monitor, showing Dirge and Thundercracker, who, in an amazing display of coordination, were resisting the joint attack of Optimus Prime, Ironhide and Jazz.

"Well, _that _was totally unexpected," Perceptor said. "I would never have expected a minimal amount of cooperation between those two in particular, and especially Dirge. Thundercracker has always been too apathetic to give him importance."

"And still, they were able to repel our attack for almost a breem," Jazz said. "Very surprising, considering we had Optimus with us."

"True, Optimus, why didn't you blow those flying trash cans to pieces when you had the chance?"

"It would have been unnecessary, Sunstreaker. There were many humans close by and the damages would have greatly surpassed the benefits."

"Besides, the 'Cons didn't seem interested in vaporizing humans," Jazz seconded. "Look there! Thundercracker seems to intentionally avoid stepping on one."

"I have always said Thundercracker is fighting for the wrong side, you know…" Bumblebee lamented.

"It's not the purpose of this reunion to analyze the moral motives of our enemies, Bumblebee, but their immediate strategy. Play the second video, Blaster."

The communicator obeyed Optimus Prime's order and the organized battle of Thundercracker and Dirge was replaced by its extreme opposite.

Within a complete display of mayhem and chaos, Thrust and Skywarp counterattacked the no-less disorganized Wheeljack and Blaster, while Prowl was uselessly trying to impose order.

"Now that's what I call fun!" Sideswipe laughed. "I don't know who was more pathetic, those Decepticreeps or you three guys."

"Without their customary trine leaders, Skywarp and Thrust ended up being as erratic as they were unpredictable. We just couldn't contain them," Prowl said, grateful that robots were not able to blush. He knew it would be a long time before he would be able to overcome the humiliation he had suffered that solar cycle.

"Paradoxically, they did more damage to us than what they would have done with their usual wingmates," Wheeljack seconded, trying as hard as possible to digest his own embarrassment.

Blaster seemed to be the only one who wasn't bothered by the unorthodox result of the battle, as his shrugging shoulders proved.

"At least we made them retreat, didn't we? And no human was harmed," he said.

"Yes, but curiously those two Seekers were the only ones who were successful out of the three energy raids the Decepticons tried today," Prowl reflected.

"Which sends logic to the Pit," Sideswipe said, causing a small wave of general laughter and mischievous comments.

Wheeljack cleared his vocalizer. "What caught my attention was that not for a moment did Skywarp and Thrust stop insulting each other, not even when Prowl and I were peppering them with laser shots. And I can swear for the Matrix that among the chaos I could clearly hear Thrust saying something about an experiment."

"That confirms our first impression of these three small energy raids not being isolated events," Optimus Prime said.

Another commotion started close to the entrance of the Command Center. The crowd of Autobots gathered before Teletran I opened in two to let the noisy group of newcomers in.

Walking as if the entire base belonged to them, the five Aerialbots headed toward their Supreme Commander. Silverbolt was helping a shivering Fireflight to walk.

"What the heck are you doing here, Fireflight?! I clearly told you to stay at least two solar cycles resting! Those spare parts are not going to attach by themselves!" Ratchet complained.

The addressed Aerialbot laughed with fake innocence and shrugged his shoulders. "I can't stay motionless, Ratch, sorry. Besides, I wasn't going to miss the main attraction."

"Fine, but don't you even think of coming whimpering to me again when your new nosecone breaks in two in midair."

"You are always so kind, doc. That's why we love ya," Slingshot laughed.

Silverbolt ignored the exchange between his subordinates and Ratchet, and respectfully saluted Optimus Prime.

"Aerialbots reporting as you requested, Commander," he said.

"Your punctuality is flawless as always, Silverbolt. I'm satisfied to see Fireflight is recovering from his injuries, although I agree with Ratchet. He should have stayed in the Repair Bay."

"You know Fire, Prime," Air Raid said as he patted his shaken comrade's shoulder. "No chance he was going to miss his stellar performance."

Laughs and general cheers seconded Air Raid's words when Blaster made appear on the screen the images of the battle between the Aerialbots and the Seekers Starscream and Ramjet.

"Me Grimlock says that fight clumsy."

Skydive burst out in laughter. "I have never seen Starscream so rabid, I tell you! That guy is a complete psycho."

Slingshot followed his companion's laughter. "Curious thing was that we weren't the target of his fury; it was his own wingmate!"

"Oh, man, that was priceless! I would have given my transformation cog just to be present in that battle!"

"You are not the only one, Sunstreaker. Why do I always miss the fun?" Cliffjumper complained.

"Quiet! Here comes the best part," Slingshot said.

General mocking welcomed the spectacular frontal crash between Ramjet and Fireflight. The Aerialbot painfully met the ground as the Decepticon stayed in the air, barely scratched.

"Ramjerk definitely has a very hard head," Hound said.

"As hard as it is empty, man. But watch, this is my personal favorite!" Blaster cheered as he forwarded the image.

Fast images showed the sequence of the aerial combat between Starscream and Air Raid. The first one was victorious, leaving his superior speed and experience very clear.

"That was pure luck, I tell ya," the defeated Aerialbot growled. "Next time I will bury that arrogant tinhead so deep he won't be able to tell his head from his aft."

"Sssssshhhhh!!" a dozen vocalizers silenced him.

Everybody's attention returned to the screen, in which the footage was being played at regular speed again.

After shooting down Air Raid, Starscream was attacked by Silverbolt and Skydive, who managed to shoot one of his wings, sending him directly into an electricity station. Starscream transformed into his robotic mode right before crashing, only to be received by a web of high tension cables that gave him a tremendous electric shock. The Decepticon Air Commander twisted his body in bizarre suffering before collapsing to the ground.

"Kentucky Fried Seeker, my favourite!" Sunstreaker cackled.

"Do you want him extra crispy or do you prefer the original recipe?" Sideswipe asked.

"Too bad the sound recording failed," Fireflight said. "You should have heard him scream, guys. Oh frag, if that slagsucker can scream! He certainly honors his name."

The Transformers in the virtual images mirrored the guffaws that invaded the entire Command Center. In the video, the Aerialbots doubled over in pure laughter. Even Ramjet, who was about to try another crashing attack, transformed to his bipedal form in mid air and fell to the ground, unable to contain his mockery when he saw his superior officer performing his macabre electrical dance.

Once he managed to get up, the irate Starscream, still shaken by small electric shocks, raised his weapons and shot at his own wingmate. Ramjet was hit by a couple of shots before his laughs allowed him to transform and fly away, closely followed by his Air Commander.

So ended one of the most unworthy battles the war between the Autobots and the Decepticons had ever witnessed.

"Bah, it's such a shame they escaped," Fireflight said. "We were about to form Superion and then the real fun would've started! We would've grabbed those suckers and forced them to kiss."

"In your current state, I highly doubt you would have been able to merge with the rest of us, Firelight," Silverbolt said.

"I would have come back from the Pit itself just to see that happening… But someday, someday…"

"Stop the videos, Blaster," Optimus Prime said. "We must not concentrate on small victories, but on what this abrupt change of the Decepticons' strategy means. For some reason, Megatron ordered his Seekers to attack in pairs instead of trines."

"A very strange decision. The Decepticon Seekers are highly effective in trines. In pairs, instead, they were easily beaten."

"Not before they stole a large amount of energy in the case of your squad, right Prowl?" Sunstreaker said, disrespectfully elbowing his superior officer. Once again Prowl felt the uncomfortable sensation of embarrassment.

"Their behaviour was unpredictable. Seekers' personalities are superficial and arrogant. Changing their combat formations may look like an insane tactic, but we must not underestimate the destructive abilities of everything that doesn't compute."

"You say that because Skywarp and Thrust kicked your aft, Wheeljack."

"Silence, Huffer," Optimus Prime intervened. "Wheeljack speaks with reason. We must never underestimate the Decepticons under any circumstance. There is something turbid behind this sudden change in the functioning of Megatron's elite troops, and it's our duty to find it out. Autobots, from now on we will double our surveillance on our enemies. Every Decepticon activity will be carefully analyzed; we can't allow ourselves the risk of disregarding anything. Ironhide, notify Cosmos to keep permanent sight on the Nemesis base. I want to be aware of every Decepticon that exits or enters. I will send Omega Supreme to station on the Moon to secure Cosmos' position."

The Autobot Commander's orders were obeyed immediately. But not even the efficiency and discipline displayed by his Autobots was able to release Optimus Prime from that unpleasant sensation that only appeared when there was a really bad omen in sight.

_To be continued._

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_Next: The other side of the coin._

_Late disclaimer: I don't own Kentucky Fried Seeker. It belongs to some guy on Cybertron who claims his products have zero grams of trans fat. Could it be?_

_I have most of the following chapter of this story written as I'm posting this, so expect a VERY fast update. In later chapters we will have more close encounters between the Autobots and the Seekers. This was just a first round. And of course, Superion will have a showdown with a new big guy in town._

_Thank you for beta reading iratepirate, sis and fellow S. May those Cons … (you know)._


	5. The unbearable lightness of teamwork 2

_Thank you for all your comments and support! As promised, here is the other side of the coin. Many hugs to iratepirate for beta reading._

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**Chapter 5**

**The unbearable lightness of teamwork**

**Part two**

The noise wasn't intense, neither particularly bothering. However, it was enough to take Thundercracker out of the defenseless state of unconsciousness.

He was lying on his back. The hardness of the surface beneath him announced it certainly had to be a repair berth. The purplish ceiling above confirmed he was in the never-welcomed Repair Bay of the Nemesis base.

He turned his head to his left and he caught sight of the origin of the noise. Leaning on a table and turning his back to him, Starscream seemed to be very busy welding something.

"But what…?" Thundercracker weakly said.

"Silence, you fool. You distract me," the raspy voice of his Air Commander interrupted him.

Thundercracker leaned on both elbows and pushed himself upward. The Repair Bay was strangely tranquil, not a single trace of the usual Constructicon activity around. Besides he and Starscream, only Thrust was in there, laying on the berth beside Thundercracker's. His optics were off.

Starscream finished welding some circuits on his forearm and looked over his shoulder.

"If you've already recovered from Hook's repairs, you'd better get the slag out of here, Thundercracker. Skywarp has been asking for you like a possessive femme. Besides, you corrupt the air with your presence."

The blue Seeker decided to ignore Starscream's rude remark. He was very used to his bad moods.

"What happened?" Thundercracker asked.

Starscream shrugged his shoulders. "Almost nothing. Those Autobots kicked your afterburners, again. If Dirge hadn't dragged you here, you would have crashed many mechano miles before reaching the base."

"Dirge?! Did Dirge… save me?"

"For your humiliation, yes. Optimus Prime beat the slag out of you, and apparently you didn't notice that he also blew up one of your engines until you were in the air. Typical of you."

"I remember I made Ironhide and Jazz eat dirt!" Thundercracker replied with his pride hurt.

"And what does it matter if you shot them a couple of times? Neither you or Dirge returned with the specified amount of energy, so your mission was a total failure," the Air Commander said as he continued his self-repairs.

Thundercracker sat on the berth, still dizzy too stand on his feet. His optics reflected many things, except patience.

"And what about you, Starscream?"

Dense silence welcomed the question. The sound of the laser scalpel continued, apparently preventing the Air Commander from hearing anything else, but Thundercracker knew better.

"What about you? How many energon cubes did you bring back?" the blue Seeker insisted.

Starscream turned off the laser scalpel, apparently concentrating on testing the functionality of the circuitry he was repairing. It seemed the strong electric shock he had received just some breems ago had affected it.

"That's none of your business," he finally said.

Thundercracker mischievously smirked. "Let me guess. Mmmhhh… none?"

"I said it's none of your slagging business! And you better get the frag out of here, Thundercracker, or by the Matrix I swear I will melt you to that repair berth, and neither Hook nor anybody else will be able to make you functional again!" Starscream cried as he aimed his null ray rifles toward his wingmate.

Thundercracker's answer was similar. His incendiary gun missiles buzzed in anticipation, but a purple light flashed and Skywarp appeared between the two Seekers, crashing against a table full of medical tools in the process.

"Of all Cybertronians, Vector Sigma had to give the ability to teleport to you!!" Starscream complained as he took cover from the rain of tools over his head.

Skywarp ignored him and proceeded to palm Thundercracker's shoulder. "Hey, TC! Great to see you functioning again."

"We are not supposed to talk to each other, Warp."

"You were talking with Screamer, though."

"That's different. Starscream is also here for repairs, or so he says."

"The only thing he needs to repair is his ego. Ramjet and those Aerialbot suckers humiliated him good this morning. Didn't they, _Commander?" _Skywarp viciously remarked.

"Shut up, Skywarp! And don't even mention that traitorous Conehead! He could out-fly me because I was damaged, but as soon as I catch him he's history!"

Thundercracker laughed. "I thought so. Zero cubes then… Glorious record, Starscream. What about you, Warp? How many cubes did you bring back?"

"Eighty percent of the main objective. Not bad at all, huh?"

"That was only luck," Starscream snorted.

"Let's calibrate our logical circuits, shall we Screamer? Or did yours get burned while you were making out with that electricity station? Let's see what's best: eighty percent of everything, or zero percent of nothing? Take your time to answer. Don't fry your brain module."

"You are going to stop calling me nicknames, do you understand?!!"

"What happened to Thrust, by the way?" Thundercracker asked, ignoring the fury of his Air Commander and staring at the unconscious red Conehead.

"He was shot down in battle, you know how it is," Skywarp nonchalantly replied.

"Shot down in battle?" mocked Starscream. "Is that what you call using your own wingmate as a shield?"

"Alright… collateral damage, or some sort of friendly fire. Whatever you want to call it, makes no difference."

"The name to address your stupidity with is totally unimportant," continued Starscream. "Your pathetic imitation of a victory during this mission reduces to nothing because you broke the main directive that Megatron gave us: _You shall not damage your wingmate."_

"Or you shall not use him as a seat, same thing," Thundercracker laughed when he saw Skywarp sitting on the inert form of Thrust, showing exactly how much he cared for his new companion.

"Oops, sorry Thrust, I didn't see you…" the black Seeker said as he got up from the unfortunate Conehead. Then he addressed his two former wingmates again. "As for my legit defensive maneuver, I acted logically. Prowl and Blaster were about to impact me and my cargo deck was full of energon cubes. Megatron understood that I privileged the importance of the mission above our own physical integrity."

"You mean Thrust's physical integrity," Thundercracker corrected.

"Look, what matters is that the orders were fulfilled and Thrust will be functional in a couple of solar cycles."

"Such brave words for a joke of a warrior such as yourself, Skywarp."

Skywarp stared at Starscream with his most bright smile. "Not even spitting all your poison will you be able to anger me today. Nothing changes the fact that I succeeded where you two scum-piles failed."

"A-ha… and that makes you better than us, doesn't it Warp?"

"Maybe not better than you, TC, but Screamer…"

"I DON'T PLAN TO REPEAT HOW MUCH I HATE TO BE CALLED THAT!"

"Sssshhh, relax…" Skywarp said. "Don't ruin our encounter, would you? This is the first time we three have been together since Megatron dissolved our trine, do you realize that? Truth is that I have missed you guys, even you Screamer."

"Which one of my energon tanks do you want me to purge first?" was Starscream's sweet answer.

"I'm also very uncomfortable with all this," Thundercracker said. "When will we return to our usual formation, and what does Megatron expect to achieve by assigning us new wingmates?"

"Why are you both staring at me?!"

"Come on, Starscream, if somebody knows what's really happening it's you. Don't you spy on Megatron all the time?"

"I have better things to do than spying on that rust bucket, Thundercracker! I can tell you one thing, though: I know as much as you do about this nonsense."

"Call me insane, but this time I believe you, Screamer," Skywarp said. "I don't think you would stand so stoically being everybody's joke out there. We all are, unfortunately."

"What are you talking about?" Thundercracker asked.

"Oh, right TC… You were here, being repaired. You are not aware that we have become the entire base's diversion. Some funny Autobot _accidentally _introduced recordings of our respective missions today to our database and now Screamer is not the only one who is being called a buffoon."

"Recordings?!" Starscream yelled. "But who dared?"

"My opinion is that it was one of those loathsome twins, or the traumatized gunner," Skywarp replied.

"Bluestreak?"

"That one."

Starscream bit his lip components. "Do those… recordings include the moment in which I crashed against that electricity station?"

"Of course they do!! And it was hilarious!! Everybody wants you to teach them that new dance, without the electric shock, of course. What do you call it? _Do the Screamer? The Screamwalk? The…?"_

"ENOUGH!" Starscream exploded, brutally punching Skywarp's face. "I have had enough of this! What the slag was Megatron thinking when he sent us to missions obviously destined to failure, not to mention absolute ridicule?! Never in my life I have felt so humiliated!"

Skywarp fell over Thundercracker but was on his feet again in a matter of an astro second. "And you will feel much worst when I finish with you, SCREAMER," he menacingly said as he rubbed his sore chin.

But the black Seeker didn't get too far. Thundercracker got up, his strength already recovered, and firmly grabbed his friend's arms, preventing the fight from erupting.

"Let go me, TC!! I'm going to tear a limb or two from this micro-brained afthole!"

It wasn't easy, but Thundercracker managed to contain his irate friend. "If you two are so mad about this, you should do something for us to become a trine again instead of fighting each other! Slag, you both make Dirge seem like a good company!"

"Still, he saved your aft, TC…" Skywarp said, forgetting his annoyance in a moment.

"Thanks for reminding me. You are such a good friend," was the shadow of an answer.

"Glad to be of service."

Starscream raised his glance toward some hypothetical place above, silently asking for patience.

"Are you wimps aware that you are the most pathetic wingmates I have had in fifty thousand vorns??!! But still… you are the only ones that can follow my flight paths, so I will solve this matter once and for all."

"Bravo for Screamer! It's good that you behave like a decent Air Commander for once in your life."

"Shut your trap hole, Skywarp, or my next attack will cost you your head! Consider yourself warned."

"I'm soooooo scared! Oh Primus, I think I just lubricated myself…"

Thundercracker placed his hand on his friend's mouth, silencing him.

"We will trust in you Starscream… this time."

"You better do," the Air Commander ironically replied. "Who are you going to trust, if not me?

"Ghostbusters?" Skywarp suggested, having managed to get rid of Thundercracker's hand.

Starscream's voice was dangerously low pitched when he spoke again.

"Thundercracker?"

"Yes?"

"Keep him away from me. Keep him VERY far away from me. Or I won't be responsible for my actions, I swear it."

"I'll do what I can, although it won't be easy with the Coneheads as our wingmates. Don't forget that, in theory, we are not a trine anymore."

"Yes, in theory… And the way to change theories is through actions," Starscream said to himself as he closed the open panel on his forearm and started to walk away.

But he didn't get too far. Skywarp brusquely hugged his neck with one arm, and did the same to Thundercracker with the other one.

"That's the spirit!" Skywarp happily said. "It means we are back in business, aren't we?"

"Not before I tell you so. Now get off me right now, you idiot!" Starscream cried.

Skywarp obeyed but firmly straightened his right arm in front of him.

"Alright, but let me hear what I want first! _Once a wingmate…"_

"Not now, Warp. I'm not in the mood," Thundercracker grumbled.

"Oh, come on!! _Once a wingmate…"_

"This is ridiculous! We are not cadets in the War Academy anymore, in case you haven't noticed. Don't you ever get tired of humiliating yourself?" Starscream growled.

"You two scraplets are the worst killjoys I have ever met! Come on, frag it! _Once a wingmate…"_

Reluctantly, Thundercracker raised his arm and put his hand on Skywarp's. Both Seekers stared at Starscream.

"Skywarp is right, Starscream. In the end, we have been so humiliated this cycle that who cares about a little bit more?"

Starscream presented to the Universe the best of his contemptuous grimaces before adding his hand to the pile.

"That's what I was talking about, you slimebuckets! Now, all together: _Once a wingmate…" _insisted Skywarp.

"… _always a wingmate_," both Thundercracker and Starscream said, not bothering to hide their apathy.

Skywarp cackled as he delivered a couple of punches that pretended to be friendly. He received a similarly violent response, but his guffaws didn't cease.

"So…" he said as soon as he was able to talk again. "Are we a trine again?"

"Leave that in my hands," Starscream replied as he walked toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Thundercracker asked.

"To talk to Megatron. This foolishness has already gone too far."

The door closed behind Starscream, leaving Skywarp and Thundercracker alone.

"Don't you just love him when he is such a jerk, TC?" the black Seeker ironically said. "Frag, you should've let me at least crack one of his optics."

"Leave him alone, Warp. He has important matters to attend to now. We depend on him, whether we like it or not."

"And he better succeed, or eternity won't seem like such a long time to wait to get rid of me, and you already know what I can do with his sanity…"

"With the little sanity he has left, you mean. Now let's get out of here. We are not supposed to talk to each other."

"Hey, we were damaged, weren't we? A little informal chat can't be avoided in the Repair Bay," Skywarp said as both Seekers walked toward the exit.

"Damaged? In my case it's understandable, but what supposedly happened to you?"

"Mmmmhhh… I think one of those Autobots scratched my paintjob."

"Really? That's terrible… It's a miracle you are still functioning."

"I'm full of surprises, TC."

"You are worst than cosmic rust, Warp. And by the way, the correct phrase is _Who ya gonna call, _not _Who ya gonna trust_."

"Huh?"

"That Ghostbusters crap or whatever its name is!"

"I thought you hated the human communications network and their… how did you call them… narrow minded products? Slagging fleshling lover you are, brother!" the black Seeker laughed as he barely managed to dodge Thundercracker's fist; it grazed his temple as it passed.

Laughs and punches could be heard as both friends advanced through the corridor. Mockery and brutality were never absent in their relationship, and even though Starscream didn't socialize too much with them, those three Decepticon Seekers had invented their own version of what a trine had to be.

They would never know it, but the base of a new being had been created in that same moment.

_To be continued._

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_Next: secrets are about to be uncovered and perhaps… perhaps… some wisdom will arise. Nah, honestly I have a clue for next chapter, but still many things can change once I start to type. Inspiration is always welcomed!_


	6. Masks and confrontations

_I can't believe it took me more than a month to update this story. Apologies for that! Currently I'm working in 5 stories and I have the tickle of posting a couple more that are really pestering me: "Write me, write me!"_

_But regardless if I post them soon or not, I promise to update faster and defeat my lazy aft syndrome. Thanks for staying with me. It's a wonderful feeling to write fanfiction but it's even better to share it._

_Tons of thanks to iratepirate for beta reading._

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**Chapter 6**

**Masks and confrontations**

Scrapper's visor darkened slightly as a barely perceptible buzzing announced the continuous functioning of his processor; thousands and thousands of data streams combined in a complex web of calculations that only a master engineer would understand.

"Rate of success?" Megatron asked, as he waited impatiently for the Constructicon leader to finish his analysis.

"It's hard to say," Scrapper answered. "Any opinion would be risky considering there are no records of this kind of fusion… Perhaps Hook can provide a more accurate prediction."

"Consult him, then. But before you do, I want an approximate percentage of success."

The Constructicon firmly held his chin before replying. "I'm afraid it is low, my leader, very low…"

"Define low, NOW," Megatron demanded, growing impatient.

"Mmmhh… twenty four… perhaps twenty five percent."

"Twenty five is good enough," Megatron approved, staring ambitiously at the inner diagrams and technical specifications of his six most powerful Seekers, displayed on the computer's screen.

Scrapper hesitated. Generally he would never have questioned a direct order from Megatron, but extraordinary circumstances forced him to alter the protocol.

"If you allow me, Lord Megatron…"

"What?" the Decepticon leader brusquely spat.

"Your plan is brilliant, as always, but I would lack of professional ethics if I didn't advise you about the risks…"

"There is no such thing as an exact plan, Scrapper. The Decepticon Empire wouldn't exist if we hadn't forced our rates of success one and a thousand times."

"I'm aware of that and I perfectly understand it, but you will agree with me that this plan is quite… peculiar. From a strictly scientific point of view, it is logical to say that some things were not built to be mixed."

Megatron smirked. "A strictly scientific point of view, you say? As one of the most ancient Combiner Team leaders, it's natural for you to defend the so-called purity of your kind. Are you afraid of some more competition, Scrapper?"

The barely expressive features of Scrapper's face didn't expose his hurt ego, but anybody who knew the Constructicon would have noticed the sudden rigidity that took over his body. Megatron saw it, not without evil satisfaction. It was no secret that the arrival of Menasor and Bruticus had jeopardized Devastator's position within the Decepticon hierarchy, challenging his prior status as the most powerful Gestalt robot of the army.

"It's not that…" Scrapper replied once he felt his voice wouldn't betray his rancor. "But Combiners are created as such; they are not improvised from independent mechanoids. The link between a Combiner group is forged at the point of creation itself, it's not something to be learned or programmed."

"These Seekers have been functioning together for thousands of vorns. Their coordination is not something to be worried about."

"All I'm saying is that Transformers not created to be Combiners cannot successfully merge. What you will obtain from the union of those Seekers will be an uncoordinated monster, nothing more than six confused minds trying to function separately inside one body. I know what I'm talking about. I'm not only a scientist, but a Combiner."

"I'm not in the mood to listen whatever your jealousy has to say, Scrapper. From this moment on, you will keep your personal opinions to yourself and will commit along with the rest of the Constructicons to this project. Initiate a simulation model with Hook immediately. I don't need to tell you that failure won't be tolerated."

"As you command, Megatron. However, I will need more precise data before I…"

A small commotion could be heard outside the closed door of the War Room. A dispute, as the aggressive voices indicated. The most upset of them was, as always, Starscream's.

The door hissed open at the same time Megatron darkened the screen of the computer.

Long Haul showed his head, trying, as was Bonecrusher, to stop an infuriated Starscream, who was claiming his authority and his right to get inside.

"Eh… Lord Megatron? We have a situation here…"

Long Haul couldn't finish. A strong sky blue fist crashed against his face, making him retreat and creating a space for the newcomer to trespass the threshold of the door.

"What's the meaning of this, Megatron?!" Starscream shouted as he pushed Bonecrusher away. "Since when do I need permission to see you?"

"Since I gave instructions not to be disturbed, you fool. Get out of here. Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Busy?" Starscream ironically retorted. "And shouldn't your occupations include me, being your Second in Command as I am? Or are you going to tell me that you are going to continue destroying the elite aerial unit of our Empire with your stupid experiments?"

"Do I have to tear out your vocalizer to silence you?! Don't tempt me, Starscream!"

The Seeker stopped his advance, allowing reason to guide his next steps.

"I need to talk to you," he said, noticeably more calmed.

"What part of _I'm busy _you didn't understand, stupid?"

"It is important," Starscream insisted, swallowing his pride.

Megatron walked toward a chair in front of the computer and took a seat.

"You are dismissed, Scrapper. Begin work immediately. I expect a first report in two solar cycles."

"As you command, Lord Megatron," Scrapper said as he made a military salute and headed toward the exit. On his way out, he threw an odd glare at Starscream.

Starscream waited until the Constructicon left before continuing talking.

"Are any of your silly plans in progress, Megatron, or are the Constructicons your new bodyguards?"

"Why would I need bodyguards in a base full of loyal soldiers such as yourself, Starscream?"

The Seeker decided not to abuse his luck. It wasn't common for him to interrupt Megatron without receiving at least one punch in return. There was no doubt his leader was involved in something, but whatever it was it could wait. Ending his own predicament was Starscream's priority, and that required things to return to their natural state.

He placed himself beside Megatron's chair before using his vocalizer again. Experience had taught him that it was not a good idea to start a conversation with his leader outside of his angle of vision.

"Have I done something to upset you, Megatron?"

"Besides having been created?"

"Yes."

"Let me see… Continuing to function?"

"Could you get serious, frag it?! I've already had enough to put up with with this stupid idea of yours to change the structure of my aerial unit, you have to admit it! You owe me an explanation."

"This stupid idea, as you have called it, is just in its initial phase," Megatron said as he rotated his chair toward his Second in Command. "If your patience has been so easily shaken, I recommend that you exercise prudence if you want to survive this experience. All you and your aerial unit have done up until now is nothing but mere coordination practice. That you found them unbearable just demonstrates the mediocre warrior you are, not to mention your pathetic leadership."

"I will ignore your insults for once, Megatron… but _coordination_? You offend me! My aerial unit, specifically my trine, defines coordination. There is no place for miscalculations in the air."

"So you are familiarized with coordination, aren't you? Would you say, then, that your aerial unit surpasses a Combiner Team in such skill?"

"But of course!"

"Excellent," Megatron said, more to himself than to Starscream. "Now sit," he addressed the Seeker again, pointing toward the chair beside him and rotating his seat to face the computer.

Starscream shot a distrustful glance toward his leader but obeyed. Megatron punched a button and the screen lightened again, displaying the diagram of Starscream's inner components.

"What the…" Starscream said, astonished and embarrassed to see every circuit of his body exposed. "What is this all about?! Why do you have images of me naked? Is this your way of telling me you have a crush on me?"

"Oh don't flatter yourself. I would rather interface with a bulkhead. Are you trying to make me purge my fuel tanks?"

"I… I just don't understand, Megatron. My inner configuration is classified information, not to mention that exposing it like this attempts against my intimacy. What the slag are you and Scrapper planning?"

"Don't you have any idea, you fool? You disappoint me, Starscream. I thought that you would already have some theory about what I'm trying to do with you and my elite Seekers."

Starscream stared at Megatron, more suspicious than ever. "Are you going to alter our structures?"

Megatron smirked. "Something like that."

Starscream suddenly got up from his chair. "Quit the mystery, Megatron! We are talking about my physical structure here! If you are planning to modify me, I have the right to know about it! Besides, I, and only I, have the last word about any change you pretend to do with my body!"

"Do you forget that I am your Supreme Commander? If I order you to jump, your only right is to ask how high. You will do exactly what I say, and you will do it without protesting! Your opinion on this or any other matter is completely irrelevant."

"No!! I won't tolerate this abuse! I'm not your pit fragging toy…!"

Fast as a lightning bolt, Megatron strongly kicked Starscream's right calf, sending the furious Seeker to the floor. Starscream would have been even quicker in getting up, but the vision of a fusion cannon before his face paralyzed him.

"You won't tolerate this abuse, you said?" Megatron calmly asked. "Not even if I tell you that it will turn you into a deadly weapon?"

"W-what are you talking about…?"

"For once in your life use your audio sensors for actually listening. Get up and watch this."

Starscream reluctantly obeyed and stared at the screen, on which the inner diagrams of Thundercracker, Ramjet, Dirge, Skywarp and Thurst had been added to his own. A simulation began to run, showing the six Seekers merging into one single robot.

"B-but what is this?" Starscream asked, still confused.

"Isn't it obvious, you moron? I'm going to create a Gestalt with your aerial unit."

Starscream opened his mouth to protest but no sound came out of his vocalizer. He was staring astonished at the screen while hundreds and hundreds of calculations were being computed in his processor.

"This is insane…" he finally spoke. "I knew you were an ignorant brute but this exceeds the poor opinion I had about your scientific knowledge, Megatron. Everybody knows you cannot create a Combiner Team just because of a whim."

"You did, with the Combaticons."

"That's different. The Combaticons were already Combiners before I reactivated them."

"For a former scientist, you are quite obtuse, Starscream."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think I would venture an hypothesis based only on a caprice? I'm no scientist indeed, but I'm not as narrow minded as you to allow simple statistics to stop me. We would have lost this war eons ago otherwise."

"Don't call me narrow minded! If there is someone in this army who is not afraid of risks it's me, and you should know it perfectly well."

Megatron burst out in laughter. "Do you call your embarrassing attempts to overthrow me every now and then a risk? Wake up and face reality, you fool! I'm giving you the opportunity to mature, so you better use your ability to reason, if you still have it, and learn something."

Starscream frowned. He hated when Megatron patronized him, even more than when he was violent.

"It's easy for you to say it, Megatron. It's not your body that will be jeopardized. It's curious that you haven't mentioned the probabilities of failure yet, which of course would put my life in danger."

"Your life and your wingmates'," Megatron added.

"Screw them! I am a Decepticon! I am my priority! But don't change the subject… In case I would agree to be part of this insanity, what are the chances of success? I also demand to know the consequences in case of failure."

"Scrapper calculates a twenty five percent rate of success. As for the consequences, you will have to wait for the Constructicons' report."

"Twenty five? Mmmh… that means thirty five percent in Scrapper's language… But still, it is too low."

"That is relative. Right now as we speak, the Constructicons are starting to design a more exact simulation based in the inner diagrams of your aerial unit, minimizing, of course, the risks of termination."

"Your concern for the welfare of your soldiers touches me, magnanimous leader," Starscream ironically retorted.

"You can spit as much sarcasm as you want, buffoon. But know this: this project is going to happen, whether you approve it or not. Although I dare to say you won't oppose too much. I know you, and you would never waste any opportunity to increase your power."

Starscream didn't reply. In that moment he was so transparent that he felt ashamed of himself. But Megatron was right. Leading a Combiner Team would make him more powerful, would put under his command a giant robot able to destroy Megatron… that would be the missing part needed to finally achieve his ambitions. The leadership of the Decepticons suddenly seemed so close to him.

"I'm worried about something, Megatron," he finally said.

"What is it?"

"I don't want my external structure modified. I'm far too handsome as I am, a perfect piece of engineering."

"Handsome as synonymous of blind? Now stop whining. The best part of my plan is that most of the upgrades will be internal. I will modify your transformation cog, as well as your wingmates', to allow the merge to happen. The similarity of your structures won't make necessary any major external alterations."

"And what about the mental merge?"

"That will be your complete responsibility. Soundwave is creating a program to increase the cerebral circuitry coordination of your aerial unit, but unless you manage to create a genuine bond with them, it won't work. So, are you going to act like a leader for once in your life, or are you going to continue fooling around behind your fake self-confidence?"

Starscream folded his arms across his chest, his ego reached by the words of his leader. He wasn't convinced, but the temptation of becoming a Gestalt leader besides Aerospace Commander and Second in Command of the Decepticon army was too big to refuse. From there to absolute glory was only one step, and it seemed smaller than ever. Nevertheless, he knew Megatron never left anything out of his control. It was time to talk without masks.

"So, I assume you are not worried about the risks… toward yourself, leader," he evilly said.

Megatron laughed. "I thought you already knew, Starscream. If you meant a real danger to me, I would have turned you into junk eons ago."

Starscream's optics narrowed with hatred, as every time Megatron stepped on his pride. "As always, you underestimate me, Megatron… But suit yourself. If you are willing to take the risk, so am I."

"As I said before, your opinion is completely irrelevant, but better for you to cooperate. Now go to your aerial unit and inform them. You have been such a deception as an Air Commander. We shall see if as a Combiner Team leader you give yourself the opportunity to make an exception."

"As you said, that is relative… But I will grant you this one. I will give you the most powerful Gestalt robot ever created, and we shall see how many of your words I make you swallow," Starscream said as he walked toward the door.

Megatron smirked. As always, it had been very easy to manipulate his Second in Command. The moment of truth had come to his plan, no need for masks anymore. And, curiously, Starscream's egomaniacal personality was the key to success.

_To be continued._

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_So how will the rest of the Seekers react to the wonderful news? Please let me know your opinions. Thanks for reading :o)_


	7. Divide and don’t conquer

_I'm deeply sorry for taking so long to update this fanfic, but I have many open stories and a lot going on in my life at the moment, so finding good quality time for writing fanfiction is not an easy task. But I'm doing my best to update all my stories; I love the relaxation fanfiction provides and you can be sure that I'll keep updating regularly._

_Thank you very much to iratepirate for beta reading. Enjoy your camping, B-S!_

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**Chapter 7**

**Divide and don't conquer**

"The right arm… I suppose it could have been worse."

Thundercracker's deep voice echoed through the distant storage room of the Nemesis base, one of the many places inside the somber space ship that were rarely used. The six Decepticon Seekers, scattered through what they considered a very uncomfortable and humid place for a meeting, would have caught the attention of any human plastic artist, who would have certainly felt eager to capture the unusual scene and preserve it for posterity. Within back lights and shadows created by the external illumination of the base, and the shining of the twelve crimson optics, the six figures had adopted, unconsciously perhaps, the position they had concerning their ranks and immediate future.

Starscream was at the front of the group, sitting on an old but tall metallic container. He had deliberately picked that spot to stare at his wingmates from a higher position, reaffirming his authority and status as Aerospace Commander, although his subordinates seemed not to have given any importance to such detail.

Thundercracker was separated from the other Seekers, keeping his distance as always but not far enough as to miss a single word of what was being discussed. He was standing, leaning on a wall beside a window with his arms folded across his chest. His glance was fixated on his right arm, perhaps considering his new function.

Skywarp was sitting on a collapsed bulkhead that had certainly been taken down in one of the many friendly fights that took place in the most distant locations of the Nemesis base. He had chosen to spend his time drawing awkward figures with fine discharges of laser beams on the surface of the once lustrous bulkhead. Thundercracker, who was the one closest to him, thought to recognize feminine curves among his friend's scribble.

The Coneheads were sitting beside each other on three geometrically aligned containers, so close that they could have touched without any effort.

"Right arm, right arm…" Thrust snorted. "Why are you complaining, Thundercracker? At least you are not a slaggin' leg."

"A leg is not just any leg," Dirge said. "I would have preferred to be the right leg, and not the useless left one."

"What do you have against the left, you cone face?" Skywarp asked, raising his glance from his masterpiece. "I am the left arm!"

"Yes, and I don't see you celebrating, jerk," Ramjet growled. "I don't understand why all of you ladies are whining. I am the crotch and the middle section! I will never see any action!"

"If you were human, you would see _all _the action," Skywarp said with a mischievous smile.

"Ooh…"

"Are there female combiner teams?" Dirge asked.

Skywarp's smirk increased. "There should be."

"Stop talking nonsense and focus," Starscream spat. "Receiving your function inside the Gestalt is only the beginning of the path."

"It's easy for you to talk, Starscream," Thrust said. "It was you who assigned us these functions without even asking us if we agreed to being part of a combiner team in the first place."

"Yeah," Dirge seconded. "Since you are the head and the upper chest…"

"I had to be the head, you stupid idiot! I am the leader!"

Ramjet growled. "That's what you say…"

"I should have been the head," Skywarp said. "I'm the most handsome by far. If we are really going to do this at least we should make sure we look fine. I have many fangirls and I don't want to disappoint them by being part of some freak."

"This is ridiculous!" Thundercracker screamed, giving an energetic punch to the wall he was leaning on. "I am a Seeker, a soldier of the Decepticon Aerial Elite, not a member of some combiner team… I fight in a trine but I do it by myself, not attached to others… It's outrageous!"

"I support you on that," Dirge said. "How are we supposed to stop being individuals and become… body parts?"

"Being part of a combiner team is much more than being body parts, you fools," Starscream said. "I'm talking about becoming more powerful, overcoming what we can achieve in solitary or in trines. Merging into a Super Robot will make us deadly."

"It will make _you_ deadly, you mean," Thrust spat. "I'm sure our interests were the last thing on your processor when you accepted this deal."

"Whatever, I have no intention of merging with any of you screwheads. I can barely stand having you close," Thundercracker growled, staring at the Coneheads with open hostility.

"I say the same," Skywarp said, getting up. "And I warn you, you conebuckets. If we ever fulfill this merging I will make sure to use a couple of certain ugly legs to practice my shooting."

"Aaah, go chew on a microchip, you dolts!" Dirge said, facing Skywarp. "We won't fulfill any merge, but if we do, it will only be the three of us, the real Elite Seekers of this army. You and your foolish wingmates can shove that up your afterburners!"

"Now that you mention that, Dirgy, I've always had a doubt. Can you tell me a simple way to recognize your face from your aft? I always have problems telling which is which. Perhaps you should be the gestalt's crotch!"

Dirge raised his automatic machine guns toward Skywarp. "Crotch is what you are about to lose, you can mouth!"

"Enough!" Starscream yelled, standing on the container he had been sitting on. "The purpose of this meeting is completely informative, so I must remind you that all your complaints and denials are out of order. I chose your new designations based on your abilities, so stop wasting your vocalizers because my decision has been made. As your Air Commander and new combiner team leader, I won't give any consideration to your opinions on the matter."

"Yay for Screamer…" Skywarp said disdainfully.

"You will limit the offensive nicknames directed at me to your idiotic processor, Skywarp. Don't forget that I can always change my opinion about who will be the crotch."

Skywarp hurried to shut up and Ramjet stepped forward. "Hey! Does that mean that assigning me the crotch was a punishment? Why?! Only because I let you fall twenty four times in a row on our recent coordination practice or because I put sugar in your fuel tanks?"

"If I considered old quarrels every one of you would deserve to be the aft of our gestalt! Use the small imitation of a processor you have, Ramjet! I chose you to be the middle section because you have the strongest and heaviest alloy of all of us. Being the most resistant, it was logical that you became our first line of defense."

"Aaah…" Ramjet said, frowning. "I suppose that has… some logic."

"Then would you mind telling me why Thrust and I are the legs, Starscream?"

"I could explain it to you, Dirge, but it would be wasting my time. It's enough to say that, like Skywarp and Thundercracker, you and Thrust have flown together for millenniums. Your coordination makes you the perfect choice to form the same pair of limbs. As simple as that."

"Oh really?"

"That, and the fact that I don't want to ruin the appearance of my arms with your ugly cone heads."

"I knew it!" Dirge said, punching the palm of his hand.

"Hey!!" Thrust jumped. "Your arms, you said? I thought the gestalt union was the combination of the cerebro-shells from all the members of the team into some sort of giant processor. What I mean is that they wouldn't be _your _arms, but _our _arms."

Starscream looked at him as he would have looked at a maintenance drone. "Basically that's correct, but there always has to be a dominating mind."

"And that would be yours, huh?" Thundercracker scowled.

Starscream smirked. "Of course."

"Then get ready guys, we will be the laughingstock of the gestalts," Skywarp mocked.

Starscream glanced calmly at his wingmate. "You know, Skywarp? I can always replace you with another Seeker, or perhaps you would prefer to be the aft of our Super Robot?"

"I thought that was Ramjet."

"I am not the aft! I'm the lower chest and middle section!"

"And where is the aft, cone face, if not there?"

Five voices rose in unison, creating the familiar chorus of complaints and insults that could always be heard every time the biggest egos of the Decepticon army were reunited in the same place.

"Eh, guys…" Thrust said.

Nobody paid him any attention, of course. The loud voices opened the way for the next phase: physical violence. Skywarp set the example acting as if Starscream's face plates were a punching bag.

He obtained a similar response, and soon Dirge and Ramjet decided to participate in the quarrel, double teaming Thundercracker.

Within the metallic sounds of the punches, Thrust's voice could be heard again.

"What is our name going to be?"

Fists stopped in mid air and faces ready to test their pain receivers frowned.

"Good question," Thundercracker said, still grabbing Ramjet's neck.

"What do you mean, Thrust?" Dirge asked. "Our name as a combiner team or the denomination of our Super Robot?"

"What do you mean by combiner team name? We are Seekers!" Ramjet growled.

"Agreed, but I think it would be weird for Starscream to say something like: _Seekers, transform and merge into… whatevetor."_

"Whatevetor? That name sucks!"

"Could you stop barking stupidities for a single astro second, Skywarp?" Starscream spat. "We will continue being Seekers; I don't see any reason to change our group denomination. And concerning the name of our gestalt…"

"What about Aerion?" Thundercracker suggested. "It's powerful, it's aerial, it's…"

"Boring," Skywarp quickly sentenced. "What about Seximus Supreme?"

"That's the most stupid name I've ever heard," Ramjet said. "What are we going to be? A gestalt robot or a giant pleasure bot?"

Skywarp smirked. "A little of both wouldn't be bad…"

"You fools are so going the wrong way," Dirge said. "If you'd use your processors for a change you would notice. Bring into your minds, if you can, the names of other Super Robots. Devastator, Menasor, Bruticus… do you notice a pattern?"

"What about the Autobots' gestalts? Their names are very different," Thrust said.

"Pffft," Dirge spat, "we are talking about real gestalts, not cheap copies. Thing is we need a powerful name, something truly… Decepticon."

"Using an intimidating name proves nothing more than the collective cowardice of the components of a combiner team," Thundercracker severely said. "Do you geeks believe that giving our gestalt some stupid name like Destructicon or Ruinator will make us stronger?"

Thrust rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "At least it will make us look more dangerous…"

"We will demonstrate our power with actions, not with empty designations," Starscream sentenced. "Our name will be Machion, referring, of course, to the unique speeds only us Seekers can achieve. It will also distinguish us from the other Decepticon gestalts, who rely on their destructive capacities and despise intelligence."

"Machion?" Skywarp asked, frowning. "What kind of name is that? If I ever had a petro-rabbit and it had a petro-flea, perhaps I would call that Machion."

"That was not a suggestion, but an order, Skywarp. We will be Machion, whether you like it or not, so get used to it."

"Oh, great… I think I would have preferred Seximus Supreme…" Thrust complained.

Thundercracker shrugged his shoulders. "Machion is not that bad. Anything that distinguishes us from the other combiner teams is good. We are Seekers, after all, we are the best."

"What's next?" Dirge asked.

"Now," Starscream said with a smirk, "we become one."

-----------------

The repair berth had never seemed as attractive as a death penalty like it did in that moment, especially with the three executioners waiting behind it.

Starscream had insisted that only Hook and Scrapper perform the operation; the last thing he needed was the mockery or the sabotage of the other Constructicons. However, he hadn't been able to get rid of Soundwave, named by Megatron as chief of operations for the project. The idea of the hated Communications Officer putting his sadistic hands in his inner systems was the worst part of becoming leader and a member of a combiner team, but the rewards seemed too attractive for Starscream to let himself be discouraged by a simple prejudice. He would stand Soundwave and whatever amount of pain if that brought him one step closer to the supreme leadership of the Decepticons.

"Head goes first," Scrapper said, exhibiting the lustrous surface of the repair berth.

Skywarp smirked and pushed Starscream, making him take a hurried step forward to regain his balance.

"He's all yours, guys," the black Seeker said. "Easy with his gender change, ok? The last thing we want is for him to become an hysterical femme. Ah, and don't forget to change his paintjob to pink…"

Honoring the speed that made him famous, Starscream turned around and punched Skywarp in the face, almost knocking him down. He grabbed him by the neck, ready to continue the punishment, but suddenly stopped. Skywarp wasn't fighting back; he didn't even seem to have realized he just had been hit. Starscream hated his prankster wingmate, but he also knew him enough to understand what was happening.

Like the rest of the Seekers, Skywarp was afraid. His attempted joke had only been the reflection of his own uncertainty when forced to step through the threshold on the way to becoming something that wasn't himself, something he wasn't ready to become.

Starscream released Skywarp and took a firm step toward the repair berth. Scrapper and Hook received him with obvious glances of hate; surely their pride of being members of an authentic combiner team was being threatened.

But Starscream didn't cower. The Seekers under his command needed a strong guide and, just as Megatron had told him, it was time for him to start acting like a real leader.

Starscream reached the repair berth and lay on his back on the cold surface. The last thing he saw before being swallowed by darkness was the always cold optic visor of Soundwave, promising him that pain wouldn't be scarce.

_To be continued._

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_Many many thanks__ to Fire Redhead for suggesting the names Seximus Supreme and Machion. I was going to use Aerion but I liked Machion better, sounds more intense._

_I already have the idea for the following chapters, so expect a fast update for this story. _

_Once again sorry for delaying and thank you very much for staying with me. Your reviews are highly appreciated._


	8. Becoming a Gestalt for dummies, part one

_First of all, my apologies for taking so much time to update this story. I had this chapter and the following in my head, but hadn't had the time to sit and put it down in words. Anyway, I plan to be more constant with this and my other not so frequently updated fics._

_I want to thank QoS for letting me use her idea of Wildrider having a certain obsession with the Seekers. If you haven't, I highly recommend you to read her stories. She's one of the best writers I have found in this site, not to mention my favorite Stunticon writer. She gives souls to those guys, I swear it. Since the first story I read of her, she has been a big inspiration._

_Another inspiration is my beta reader iratepirate, who has helped me a lot with my limited knowledge of the English language and has been with me in all those ups and downs life is made for. Writing with her and calling her my dear friend is a big honour :o)_

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**Chapter 8**

**Becoming a Gestalt for dummies, part one**

**Subject: Principles of teammate's comradeship, or how not to kill your fellow Combiners.**

**Imparted by Wildrider, aka The Nutty Professor.**

As every Seeker, Thundercracker considered himself a creature of the air. Not by definition, not by classification, it was just as natural as being online. He loved the skies, his element, the only place he considered home, the only world that made his processor compute feelings that were considered weaknesses by his own warrior code.

But in the place where the ground was the only foe, where nothing and nobody else could touch him except the air embracing his own velocity, such contradictions didn't exist. Hell was far beneath, covered with dust, enemy of wings and, thus, of freedom.

But hell was exactly where he currently was, struggling as he tried to restrict his speed at one miserable hundred and thirty terrestrial miles per hour. Whatever definition of the inferno he had before was being completely rediscovered as he kept following the reckless Ferrari through his path of destruction.

No, reckless had been a wrong term to use. Insane would serve better to describe whatever Wildrider was doing.

Thundercracker had always wondered what happened inside the processor of a Stunticon, what mysterious directives guided them toward impacting anything that moved. In a flat world of roads, the ground-pounder brats had created their own – understanding roads, of course, as wherever they pleased to go, no matter if structures, vehicles or Primus himself stood in front of them.

Was that courage? Was it stupidity? Was it the same thing? Just some force field couldn't provide the Stunticons with such displays of bravado. It was very simple in the end; they had never assimilated the concept of fear, such an irony considering they were nothing but a team made of rejects: a sadist, a fatalist, a paranoiac, a competitive freak and a lunatic.

But that was not the big question. The current enigma of Thundercracker's life was what the slag he was supposed to learn from Wildrider, the loose cannon of such a colorful group of failures. The answer came from Wildrider's vocalizer itself.

"Melon!"

"_Melon?" _Thundercracker repeated through his comm link.

"Yeah, melon!" Wildrider managed to scream from the mayhem around him. "What did I tell you before, fly boy?"

"_Slag it, Stunticon! Would you mind activating your anti gravitational system and fly somewhere we can actually talk? The sooner we are done with this, the better."_

Wildrider replied with a loud guffaw as he skidded brusquely to avoid a grey trailer at the exit of an interstate. Thundercracker found it curious that immediately after such maneuver the Stunticon seemed to think about it twice, applied his breaks and impacted the trailer before resuming his race. Not mysterious, though, considering the resemblance the human vehicle had with the infamous Stunticon leader, Motormaster.

"And _that_ was for using my DVD collection to sharpen your sword this morning…. Huh, what was I saying? Oh yeah, cherry and what else?" Wildrider spoke again as the music coming from his stereo challenged the friction of his tires as he gained speed again.

Thundercracker sighed. That was a battle he was not going to win. And he was right about something; as soon as his bizarre session of practice with Wildrider was over, the better.

"_Fine…" _the Seeker complied. _"Cherry, strawberry, orange and apple."_

"Don't forget melon," Wildrider said.

"_That's the last one you said… Oh, what do I care, anyway? What the slag are those things?"_

"Fruits."

"_Fruits?"_

"Yeah, you see, first comes the cherry, one hundred points, then the strawberry, three hundred… and so on. Oh, see that orange one? That is a ghost. Clyde. He's the stupid one."

"_I don't understand what you are talking about, and I don't see what crashing human vehicles has to do with our practice. You were supposed to instruct me on being a combiner team member, and so far we have done nothing!"_

"Those are power pellets," Wildrider said, ignoring Thundercracker's words. "You eat them and you can bust the ghosts, for a while. They are usually located in the corners, but I have discovered that they are everywhere."

"_That is a human mailbox, and I don't see how a minuscule piece of scrap can grant you any power."_

"That's what Dead End said when he played level one. And look at him now. He even finished level 256, you know, the one with a glitch?"

"_Wait… is this about some stupid video game?"_

"Yup. Pac-Man. Ever heard of it? Talking about coincidences, I just bought my 256th copy. Motormaster crushed the other 255 against my head. No, make it 254. Drag Strip shot the remaining one when I told him he was fat and yellow, just like ole Pac."

"_It amazes me you can do the math."_

Wildrider giggled, apparently flattered by what was supposed to be an insult. Thundercracker lost him visually when the Stunticon entered a tunnel, but his energy signature was easy to track, and even if it hadn't been, the sound of the destruction pinpointed his location better than any radar.

"_Hey, flyboy?" _Wildrider asked through his comm link.

"_What now?" _Thundercracker grunted.

"_Why don't you release one of those booms of yours?"_

"_A sonic boom? What for?"_

"_Duh! Not to compete with my sound system, for sure. You know what we should do? Organize a competition, your sonic booms against Breakdown's vibratory pulses? Heh, now that would be a competition!"_

"_Unlike you, Stunticon, I'm not interested in meaningless destruction. And I hope you have enjoyed your stupid Pac game or whatever its name is, because unwanted attention has been called. Check your radar."_

"Nah, that's Dead End's job," Wildrider vocalized again, coming out of the tunnel with a crashed bike between his front wheels.

Thundercracker took an astro second to try to calm down and not challenge the resistance of Wildrider's force field with a missile. _"Autobots arriving at quadrant C-81."_

"Yeah, they always show up. Wanna bust them a little?"

"_Combat maneuvers are not scheduled. I'm not supposed to engage in anything that compromises the modifications the Constructicons did to my structure for at least five cycles."_

"Ah-huh, make sure you don't break a nail."

"_What is that supposed to mean?"_

"Figure it out, flyboy! Now, since you don't want to shoot the 'Bots, there's an abandoned warehouse near here. We can go and hide there while your manicure dries."

"_Frag yourself."_

"Uh, no fun there. Why don't you frag me, better?"

"_After or before I purge my fuel tanks? Where's that warehouse of yours?"_

"Follow me, flyboy, if you can, that is!"

………….

Almost four breems later, or, as Wildrider had hurried to correct, half an hour, Thundercracker was testing his patience again as leaned arms-crossed on a big brick wall, watching Wildrider scratch something on the ground with the barrel of his gun.

Finally, the Stunticon finished and stood up, a wide smile on his face. "Oooookay, this is the deal. See? It's not that difficult."

Thundercracker grimaced and approached the childish drawing made in the dust. He had to apply all his imagination to recognize Menasor in the creature with extremely out of proportion limbs with a smaller figure at his side. Thundercracker figured that one was Wildrider because he had a couple of spikes at both sides of his head.

"So, the thing about combining is letting yourself go," Wildrider said. "See? Me, here, I'm the left leg, so when Motormaster gives the order, I just let myself go, and we are all Menasor. Gets really wild up there, but it's easy."

"Is that all?" Thundercracker asked with sarcasm. "Why were you assigned to this mission in the first place? I thought Dead End was supposed to instruct me about this whole gestalt madness."

"Yeah, but Motormaster told me to come in his place. He doesn't like Seekers, you know?"

"And sending me the psycho instead of the undertaker was the perfect way to prove it, in case I didn't know. What a waste of time!"

"Hey, no need to be nasty. I'm the one who's wasting his time here. I'm no teacher, you know? Besides, I don't think you guys can become a gestalt."

"That makes two of us now. And how did you reach such a brilliant conclusion?"

Wildrider smiled, as if he had discovered the biggest truth in the Universe. "Easy. You're not a team."

Thundercracker hesitated, momentarily taken aback. "Excuse me? We have been flying together for vorns! What would you know about that?"

"That doesn't make you a team. You don't watch TV together, don't do anything together, all you do is fight."

"And don't you? All I see is Motormaster using you as punching drones. Do you call that a team?"

"Yep, 'cause if he beats one, he beats all."

Thundercracker shook his head. "That has to be the worst excuse ever created."

"Well, the system works. Motormaster messes with us because he can, and we don't mess with him because he's stronger than us. Now, what happens if any of you flyboys try to be the smart ass with any of us?"

"Let me guess… Motormaster kills us."

"You're starting to learn, 'Cracker."

"That kind of reasoning is not only brutal, but conformist. I would like to see Starscream trying to beat me around. He wouldn't live to tell about it… And don't call me 'Cracker."

"That's exactly your problem. You wing boys think you're all divas. One thing you need to understand to be like us is that you have to be… ugh… different? Let one lead, let another throw the parties. There's room for everyone, you know? There's nothing wrong in being a leg. Let some other guy be the head and take all the blows."

"I'm an arm, at least I'm supposed to be."

"Which arm?"

"Right one."

"Second in Command, that is. Get ready for some extra pressure."

"I thought Dead End was the Second in Command of your team, and he's the left arm."

Wildrider giggled. "Don't let Drag Strip hear you saying that."

Thundercracker frowned. Among all the nonsense Wildrider had said, perhaps he had mentioned something basic, even instinctive, about how to approach the still bizarre idea of becoming a combiner team member.

Still lost in his thoughts, the Seeker startled when he saw a thin, grey form falling at his feet. His glance went from the shackles on the ground to the figure of the Stunticon before him.

"So," Wildrider said with a wicked smile. "Wanna take me prisoner?"

………………..

**Subject: Mind fusion, or how five sets of cerebro-shells work better than one (in theory).**

**Imparted by special guest teacher: Blades.**

"Slag you!!"

Ramjet only smirked when the spit of lubricant fell on his cheek.

"You'll pay for this, Decepticon scum! I swear by my maker that you will!" Blades continued shouting.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Ramjet said, cleaning his face plates with the back of his hand and adjusting the chains that kept his prisoner motionless. "Mind changing the tune? You have been talking the same scrap for about… what… half a breem?"

"What about this tune, then? You suck, bad joke of a flier!"

Ramjet burst into laughter and pushed Blades, forcing him to sit on a small pile of containers on the human dock. "Where does that leave you, Autodork? You fell so easily, so, so easily... Crashing against you was easier than crashing against a building. Even they can move faster."

"Remind me when to laugh… What the frag do you want from me? I know you well enough and it's not your style to take prisoners. Are you going to torture me… rape me?"

"Oh, you would like that, wouldn't you chopper lips?" Ramjet sneered, slapping the Protectobot's face. "But sorry, as much as I would like to satisfy your fantasies with a _real _flier, you're really not my type."

"Then what do you want?"

"Easy, nurse boy. I'm the one who asks the questions here, got it? So, starting now, we're going to play a very fun game. It's called I-ask-you-answer, how do you like it?"

"But what the… aaaaaaahhhhh!" Blades cried in pain when a thin laser beam scorched his right thigh. Ramjet had lowered the intensity of his rifles, but still the pain inflicted had been considerable.

"Not the answer I want to hear, Autobot. Now, second chance. Ready to play?"

"Slag yoursel-- aaaaghhhhh!!" Another shot, another roar of pain. This time the target was Blades' left propeller, which partially melted.

"Next time I'll take both of your propellers. Ready to play now?"

"Y… yes…"

"Good Autobot," Ramjet said, resting his right foot on the Protectobot's lap and subspacing a data pad. "Question number one: How does it feel to be a Combiner team member?"

"What? What kind of question is that?" Blades replied, confusion momentarily overcoming his dread.

Ramjet lifted a brow component and prepared to honour his promise of relieving Blades from the weight of his propellers.

"No, no, wait!" Blades said hurriedly. "It… it feels natural, I guess…"

"Mmmph," Ramjet said, frowning. "That really doesn't help me. See, it took me the entire night shift to prepare this quiz, but what I really need to know is how the slag you manage to merge with the other Protectobot losers. And I don't mean all that servo-clang-clang thing, but how you guys actually merge your minds."

For a moment it seemed that Blades was about to ask why Ramjet needed to know that, but, fortunately for his health, he thought it twice and decided to reply instead.

"I'm not an expert myself, but the whole purpose of a composite mind works very similar than the physical combining part."

"So you became an arm, a leg?"

"No, you became one much bigger being, in which the arm or leg you are supposed to be, becomes _your _arm, _your_ leg. And the same applies to the rest of the team."

"Suppose you are the torso…"

"I'm the right arm."

"I don't care! Interrupt me one more time and I'll stick your helixes up your exhaust! Got it? Good… Now, suppose you are the torso and somebody shoots you… let's say, a missile. Does it hurt you?"

"Yes, as it hurts the others. A Combiner team member, let's say the one that forms the torso, stops being a torso but still keeps that torso as his own."

"Huh? You're not making things clearer for me, Autobot, so you better start doing it or you'll be lucky if you manage to merge into an aft plate when I finish with you, did you hear me?!"

"Slaggit, I'm doing my best! What I'm trying to tell you is that once a Gestalt member merges with his teammates, he becomes a completely new being, not just a body part. Do you want me to spell it for you? It's not my fault that you are such a slow aft hole…"

A violent punch to the head silenced Blades.

"Let's continue," Ramjet said calmly as he continued reading whatever he had written on his datapad. "Okay… so you were saying that merging minds is just like merging bodies? A-ha, let me note that… So what happens with your individual mind when you merge into the big guy? Can you peek into your buddies' thoughts, dig into their dirty little secrets?"

"I can imagine the Decepticons have the most twisted thoughts, but not us. So no, that's a question I can't answer."

"Oh great, so you're not only a bunch of retarded goodie goodies, but boring also? You should do yourself a favour and put your head into a trash compactor."

"I have the feeling you will take care of that for me."

"Yes, you're right about that… Okay, next question. Let's talk about… what was the name? Individuality, that was it."

"I'm surprised you can pronounce the word-"

A strong kick to the chest sent the Autobot to the ground. "Like this!" Ramjet mocked. "Who decides when it's time to crash and when it's time to shoot? Do you gestalt freaks have some sort of meeting to figure out those things?"

"Yeah…" Blades growled from his new spot. "We comm each other all the time… Hey Streetwise, next time one of those Seeker freaks flies above us, you take that giant flyswatter and squash him…"

Ramjet's next kick impacted Blades' head, severely hurting his neck and making him realize it would be wiser to moderate his comments. He needed to buy time for his teammates to realize he was in trouble, but he also needed to remain functional.

"Look Ramjerk, I already told you! It's difficult to explain and more so when the student has some dumb processor like yours. We don't plan things, nobody decides more than the others. Our minds fuse and become one. We are still ourselves, but at the same time we are somebody else. If we want to move a leg, we do, by decision or instinct, but it's a common thing. It's not that three of us decide to move that leg and the others don't."

"So you all think the same…? Ah… and isn't that difficult?"

"Not for us. Of course, that changes when we're talking about some stupid, dumb aft Gestalt like the Decepticon ones…"

Blades was expecting more pain but, much to his surprise, Ramjet didn't seem interested in defending his comrades in arms. But then again, loyalty had never been a Decepticon specialty.

"Mmmh," Ramjet growled, more to himself than to his captive audience. "That didn't even get me close to what I wanted to find out… Frag it! Why does this combiner slag have to be so complicated?"

Blades couldn't resist it anymore. His curiosity and the proximity of four very familiar energy signatures gave him the courage to defy the Conehead one more time.

"So why don't you answer a question, for a change? Why are you so suddenly interested in Combiner teams? Are you Decepticon maniacs creating another giant super failure?"

Ramjet burst into laughter. "Yeah, and not just any super robot, it's more like THE super robot. You'll see. Unfortunately I was ordered to keep you alive, so I don't… how did Screamer put it? Oh yeah, spoil the fun… So you can return home with the other nurse bots and keep polishing each other's intakes or whatever it is that you do. By the way, I was also ordered to erase everything that happened in the last breems from your memory banks, so smile and look at the light!"

……………

When Blades returned to online status, he found himself lying on a dock, surrounded by seagulls and some curious humans. But what really disturbed him was having no idea who had painted with big red letters "Nurse Nightingale" on his chest plates.

* * *

_To be continued._

_I don't own Pac-Man, and to be honest I was never a fan of the game. I remember I played Miss Pac-Man once but didn't hook me, so please forgive my disrespect for a classic. I just thought Wildrider would be one to be crashing cars as ole Pac would eat those dots on the screen._

_Also, the "see the light" thing? Of course, the idea came from that device in 'Men in Black' that could erase partially memories with a blink of a light. How cool was that?_

_Thanks for reading. The lessons of how to become a Gestalt will continue next chapter. Please let me know if you liked this._


	9. Becoming a Gestalt for dummies, part two

_I tried not to delay too much posting this update. I had an idea of what I wanted for this chapter, but once I started to type it, it flew so naturally that it was scary. I guess I__ love these characters too much… _

_Anyway, I hope you guys will enjoy what's coming. Have a good read :o)_

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**Chapter 9**

**Becoming a Gestalt for dummies, part two**

**Subject: Gestalt Merging, or how to become a body part and keep your self-esteem more or less intact.**

**(Reluctantly) imparted by Hook.**

"You're so handsome, Skywarp… yeah, like the most handsome mech in the Universe. And your body is sooo hot… I would love to see that huge, monstrous, delicious interface wire everybody is talking about…"

"Mmh, really? Well, maybe I can give you a little taste… I've never been able to say no to a pretty lady like yourself…"

Skywarp startled at the sound of the door opening, almost losing his grip on the severed head he was holding in front of his face. He had spent the last half breem talking to himself through that lifeless carcass that once had belonged to some unfortunate female Autobot.

"Put that down," Hook ordered coldly.

Skywarp threw the grayish head on the pile of junk where he had found it. "There, there, don't blow a fuse… So whose head was that, anyway? We are so scarce of femmes and you Constructicon freaks use their parts to satisfy your kinky pleasures? Gee, at least you could put the girl back together in one piece."

"I'm not going to degrade myself by answering that. Stay away from the waste disposal unit and limit your processor functions to watching and learning. I received orders to initiate you in the principles of Gestalt merging, and as much as I despise such task, I had to comply."

"Trust me Hook, it's not exactly that I'm enjoying it either… TC was lucky, being assigned to Wildrider. Sure, the slagger is crazy, but at least he's not a boring drone… Huh, don't take it personal."

The glance Hook shot Skywarp was the same the Constructicon would have dedicated to a defective gear.

"So what are you going to teach me?" Skywarp continued, leaning casually on a workbench and folding his arms across his chest. "How to become a giant piece of Lego?"

"Transform", Hook commanded, not even looking at his uncomfortable student.

"What? What for?"

"Just do it."

Skywarp shrugged his shoulders and transformed into his F-15 combat jet mode, tearing down some cabinets of the laboratory in the process.

"Not to your alternate mode, you idiot, but to your Gestalt mode," Hook said with very little patience.

Skywarp returned to his bipedal form and scratched his head. "Ah, that one… Huh, to tell you the truth I haven't done it yet, it's kind of weird transforming into an arm… Hey, have you realized that Combiners could also be considered Triplechangers?"

If Hook had had two optics instead of a visor, he would have found the way to roll them. "Believe it or not, others have made that erroneous assumption before, so desist in your efforts to say something intelligent and limit yourself to obeying me. Transform."

"But… just like that? I mean, it's kind of embarrassing… What's the point in doing it alone? Do you ever fool around transforming into Devastator's head or into whatever part of his structure you form? Wouldn't it better to do it only with the rest of your teammates?"

"What I know is that you talk too much. There is a thick metal structure on the ceiling. Transform and attach to it now. Time is a unit that doesn't stop."

"Huh… I would really prefer to…"

Hook turned his back to the Seeker and started to rummage through a cabinet full of tools. "Lie down."

"Whoa, wait… I admit I barely say no to such words, but you're not really my type, Hook."

Hook was not the kind to repeat himself. Skywarp didn't see him pushing the red button on his wrist, but he definitely felt the energy discharge that shook his body, generously provided by a strange device above his head. If he had had the mindset to do so, he would have really considered being more careful with his surroundings from that on, especially when putting a foot in the Constructicons dominion.

"Aaaarrrgh! What did you do to me?!" he cried, falling to the floor and making frenetic efforts to move his body, which had completely ceased to obey him.

"Resistance is useless," Hook said, approaching him with a laser scalpel in hand.

"I… I can't slaggin' move! Whatever you did, undo it! Undo it, you hear me?!"

"I hit you with a mild electronic disruptor beam. Your processor will remain isolated from your motor functions for approximately a breem. You will have no secondary effects, so stop complaining."

"How do you expect me not to complain when you have paralyzed me?"

Hook activated the small controls on his wrist once again and the strange structure hanging above Skywarp seized the immobile Seeker and put him on his back on the workbench aside.

"If this is your definition of getting laid, I'm not interested! Let me go, you insane Constructicon freak!"

"Your yelling is not appreciated. I strongly recommend you to stop it, or I'll apply another dose of my electronic disruptor right to your vocalizer and, as past experiments have demonstrated, it won't be a pleasant experience."

Despite his panic, Skywarp knew that Hook wasn't one to make empty threats, so he made an effort to lower the tone of his voice. "B-but… what are you going to do to me? Y… you were supposed to teach me about Gestalt merging…"

"And that's exactly what I'm doing."

"By hitting me with some version of Screamer's null ray?"

"Unlike Starscream's null ray, my electronic disruptor beam maintains the functionality and sensitivity of the subject's structure."

"And why the slag do you need to keep me sensitive…?" Skywarp said, his panic reaching embarrassing levels when Hook approached and towered him with his shadow. "Oh for the slaggin' Primal Program… what the frag are you going to do? Help!! This maniac's trying to kill me! HELP!"

"Just as resistance has proven to be, petitions for help are also futile."

"Don't you dare touch me, you freak! I'm Megatron's favorite Seeker! Do you have any idea of the mess you will get yourself into if you offline me?"

"Only a childish mind such as yours could think that my primary intention is to deactivate you," Hook calmly said as he began to liberate the joints of Skywarp's left arm plates.

"Aaah, what you are doing? Stop messing with my arm!"

"An arm. Easily said, but have you ever thought about all the moving functions you are allowed to have because of this single servo?"

"Aaaah!" Skywarp cried when Hook applied a mild electric discharge to the now exposed circuits of his forearm.

"As you know, the structure of every Cybertronian is made of millions of components, a diverse kind of circuitry that allows perfect performance of the diverse functions our bodies are able to execute. This arm, as the rest of your limbs, is connected to your processor by a complex net of circuits that doesn't only allow it to move, but to feel. Unlike it, a Combiner Team member who transforms into an arm, is not just a perfect machine consisting of electrical and mechanical components. Gestalt technology goes beyond any kind of anatomical engineering and becomes something that, until not so many vorns ago, was an impossible thing: the creation of one superior being through the merging of different individuals. Even though said merging cannot operate without the communion of the mental processors of the Combiners involved, the process of mechanical union should not, and cannot, be underestimated. The body has to be as perfect as the mind."

"Perfect?" Skywarp asked, considerably more calmed. "How can it be perfect when Gestalt robots are big, crazy creatures? Every time Devastator merges, it's not only the Autobots that shiver in fear."

Another wave of pain made Skywarp cry when Hook applied another electrical discharge, this time to his open shoulder.

"Logic dictates that a mind and a body created by the union of unique individuals has to alter the clarity of the reasoning process," Hook coldly stated as he pinched the joint of Skywarp's index finger. "Like this finger. You consider it your own, that it moves only by the will of your processor. In a Gestalt robot, a finger is the finger of ALL, the same as yours. Even though moving it is an action coming from your own processor, you have to do it with the common will of your Gestalt. Otherwise, you will become an obstacle and will jeopardize the rest of your team. An enemy within the bond is the last thing any Combiner needs."

"How can a finger jeopardize a Combiner team? It's just a fraggin' finger!"

"Not when said finger is anatomically made of the independent structure of one of the team members," Hook replied, lifting the metallic plate of Skywarp's index finger and applying his laser scalpel to the exposed circuitry.

"OK! Just stop burning me! I want to still have my arm attached to my body when we finish this! Where did you learn to teach lessons? In some prison in Kaon?"

"Your words are out of order. I can perform flawlessly to within a 5000th of a Cybertronian mini-inch. No damage to your structure will be sustained."

"Alright, but it still hurts like hell!"

"Pain is momentary, leaves no physical sequels and is the perfect way to emphasize recently acquired knowledge. Are you ready now to transform into your Gestalt form?"

"Yes, yes… just stop torturing me!"

Hook stepped back. "The effects of the electronic disruptor beam I applied to you will vanish in seven astro seconds. Prepare your transformation cog to change into your Combiner shape for the first time."

Just as predicted, Skywarp was off of the workbench as soon as he recovered his mobility. For a moment it seemed that he would take aggressive actions toward his mentor, but the thought of future pain restrained him. It was not a good idea to become enemies with the only surgeon in the base, after all.

"Transform," Hook said again, pointing toward the big metallic plate on the ceiling. "Attach to that structure and wait for my instructions."

Skywarp glanced upwards. "What is that thing, anyway? Some sort of imitation you Constructicons use to practice the merging process?"

"Real Combiners do not need shameful methods such as this to complete a process as simple as merging. Poor imitators such as you and your teammates are entirely a different matter. Now transform!"

Skywarp offlined his optics and clenched his fists, concentrating for the first time in thousands of vorns on the process that was as natural to him as life itself. But he wasn't going through something as normal as to form into an alternate mode. He was assuming something more than a new form; he was becoming something else, a part of an immense being that was a complete stranger to him. How was he supposed to be part of a monstrosity if he was yet to know it?

Suddenly, his head was gone, the same happened with his arms and legs. His wings extended and pointed outwards, but they were not wings anymore. And he was blind. Completely blind.

"_What the… I… I can't speak!" _he 'said', completely panicked.

Hook glanced coldly at the gigantic and motionless arm before him. "Your vocalizer cannot function. From now on, when you assume your Gestalt form you will communicate with your teammates only through the Combiner bond, if you can ever achieve it, that is."

"_Then how it is that you can you hear me?"_

"The structure you are attached to allows outsiders to communicate with your isolated form. It's a very basic principle."

"_I… I feel really weird… I think I'm going to purge my fuel tanks… If I can ever find my mouth, that is… Put me down! This is a nightmare!"_

The nightmare would have reached new levels of horror if Skywarp could have seen himself, a giant black and purple arm hanging sterile from the ceiling.

"Your transformation process is incomplete," Hook told him. "Rearrange the metal layers of your thumb and rotate the plate X-15 of your forearm ninety point seventy five degrees."

"_W…what…? __Thumb? Forearm? Where the slag they are?"_

Hook shot a mild laser beam to the indicated spots, making Skywarp cry in pain. "There, and there… Rearrange them now, otherwise you won't be able to move properly."

Skywarp didn't know how, but he concentrated on the places in which he was feeling the burning pain of Hook's precise shots.

"Initiating motion process," Hook continued. "At my signal, move your index finger."

"_I… I can't… please let me return to my original form… this hurts…"_

"You won't abandon your Gestalt form until you complete an entire cycle of basic movements. Now move your index finger."

Skywarp didn't know how he did it, nor could he have described the process with words. It was like lifting a very heavy weight in a place that didn't have anything to do with his arms or legs. But it was him, it was his body moving, his mind commanding such movement…

And it wasn't his index finger that moved. It was the middle one, leaving the clenched giant fist to show itself obscenely to the snobby Constructicon surgeon.

Hook didn't show any exterior signal of being offended by that vulgar human gesture. When he spoke, his voice was as calmed and elegant as always.

"As it seems that you don't have major problems with the movement of the fingers, let's proceed to the elbow joints, one of the most sensitive parts of a Cybertronian organism. Allow me to exemplify."

Two breems later, when Reflector walked outside the Constructicons laboratory, he couldn't help but shiver when he heard the cries of pain coming from the inside. It seemed that Vortex, the Combaticon interrogation specialist, had some good competence concerning the millenary art of torture.

……………

**Subject: Basics of Gestalt ****rivalry - ****cooperation - or how to deal with other Combiner teams that also suffer Primus complex.**

**Imparted by Swindle, with the invaluable assistance of Drag Strip.**

Two shining Autobot insignias received the limpid light of the terrestrial moon, which was bathing handsomely the vegetated hill.

"Mmmmh, my hero," Thrust said grinning, moving away to avoid the punch Dirge threw in his direction immediately after.

"Whoa, careful!" Thrust continued, barely able to restrain himself from the attack of laughter that was threatening to take control of his vocalizer. "I mean it, Dirge, you don't look that bad. As a matter of fact, I even find you hot."

"Hot as a Quintesson wart? I still don't understand why Swindle insisted on painting these slagging insignias on my wings, but most of all I don't understand why the slag I said yes!"

"He said it was part of the program."

"To the inferno with the program!" Dirge said, tearing off a tree from its roots. "I don't recall anybody asking my opinion whether I wanted to become a Combiner team member!"

"Our opinions are not important, Screamer stated that very clearly. All we can do now is to learn as much as we can from Swindle and Drag Strip."

"Yeah, and about that… Where the slag are those two losers? Swindle said we would learn everything we needed to know about protocol between Decepticon Gestalts but until now the only thing I've learned is that this disgusting terrestrial grass itches!"

"Don't complain about terrestrial grass," Swindle said, appearing from behind both Seekers and startling them. "Some humans pay good money for it, did you know?"

"I don't care what humans pay for! You have ten astro klicks to catch my attention, Swindle, or we'll both be out of here. What the slag did you bring us here for? What's to learn in this filthy place?"

"Relax, flyboy, lesson is getting started…" Swindle stated calmly, putting his hands on both Seeker's shoulders. "See those lights?"

Dirge and Thrust focused their optical sensors on the dozen incoming lights that were approaching at the bottom of the valley.

"Human vehicles… so what?" Thrust spat.

"Not just regular human vehicles… Those are underground racing vehicles."

Dirge shook his head. "Are you organizing human races now, Swindle? Is there a limit to how low you can fall? I thought the ground was the limit, but you are full of surprises."

"Thank you. I'll take that as a compliment."

Swindle hadn't finished talking when his comm link came to life and a presumptuous voice could be heard.

"_I'm ready here. How much more do I have to wait? I've been ready for almost a breem now. I don't care if you__'ve finished taking bets or not, I'm starting this race right now!"_

"Calm down buddy, I'm done with the bets indeed, but take it easy. Remember what we agreed, Drag Strip? You would give those humans two laps of advantage…"

"_Yeah yeah yeah, they can have three, they can have as many as they want. I can beat any human with all my tires punctured and driving backwards."_

"You are the real king of the road, my friend, nobody but you. Now remember our little deal. No human casualties this time, alright? Finding you new opponents is not becoming easier."

Drag Strip mumbled something unintelligible and ended the communication.

"What was all that about?" Thrust asked.

"Just a little example of nice and smooth cooperation between rival Gestalt members," Swindle said, sitting between the two Coneheads.

"Cooperation? It seems to me that you are using that foolish Drag Strip to gain some human credits."

Swindle laughed. "You're more intelligent than you look, Dirge, I give you that, but in this case you are wrong… at least partially. You see, Drag Strip receives the half of my earnings – or what he thinks is half – but the main reason he does this is to temporarily satisfy his obsession to win."

"Tell me something I don't know," Dirge snarled. "But why would you be interested in helping him? I bet you have a zillion other ways to make earnings on this filthy planet. I thought you Combaticons hated those Stunticon loonies…"

"And we do, flyboy, we do… But sometimes you need to forget about old rancor for the sake of major goals."

"Such as profits?" Thrust asked ironically.

"There is no more sacred goal than profits, my friends, but in this case I was talking about simple comradeship. You guys are about to enter the Decepticons Combiner Teams world, and trust me, blending in won't be easy, nor pleasant. There is a special protocol, rules you have to follow… Otherwise, you're doomed."

"So you brought us here just to tell us that slag?" Dirge complained. "What a waste of time!"

"My friendly piece of advice is a free bonus, and you two flyboys should know that I _never _give anything for free. But don't you think I brought you here for nothing. Just stay where you are and keep your processors open. By Megatron's orders, you both are mine for the rest of the night shift, so you better make this useful and learn something."

"Learn… learn what?" Dirge insisted.

"Ssssh… the race is about to begin…"

Just as Swindle had said, the human vehicles took off, leaving dense clouds of dust behind, but also a very impatient sentient yellow Tyrell P-34 Six-Wheeler race car, who couldn't wait for the two laps of advantage granted to be over.

"I don't understand _Drag Queen_, really," Thrust said with contempt. "Why does he race against humans when he could race against his teammates?"

"Aaaah, basic Combiner protocol," Swindle replied. "Drag Strip races his teammates indeed, but he can't do it as often as he would like to. You see, the Stunticons were made to conquer the roads, alright, but if you take a closer look at their screwed personality components, you will notice that, despite of their high speed, they're all a bunch of loser junk piles. In other words, Drag Strip's need for racing can't be always covered by his teammates. So what does he do? He comes to me. And I help him, for a price."

"So we have a Combaticon and a Stunticon working together…" Dirge said with a grimace. "How romantic… What's next, Mr. Dealer? Are you going to put together a mental asylum to make Wildrider and Mixmaster feel at home? Or will you make possible Long Haul's fantasy of actually constructing something by himself? I'd advise them to be careful. If you were able to sell your own teammates as scrap, I don't want to think what other Combiners can expect from your _help._"

Swindle burst into laughter, not even slightly offended by Dirge's words. "I'm glad to see you know the basics of the personalities of your soon to be fellow Combiners, Dirgy. Oh, Drag Strip has just won his race… Faster than usual, and he just destroyed one human vehicle… Okay, time for us to proceed to the practical part of our lesson, boys."

"What do you mean practical?" Thrust asked. "You want us to race against those humans too?"

"You wouldn't believe how much humans pay for the opportunity to race against a Decepticon, but I have something better planned for you two. You guys are Seekers, aren't you? What do you call yourselves? Oh yes… princes of the skies."

"That's what Starscream calls himself," Thrust corrected.

"Never mind, those details are not important. What I mean is that your ego doesn't have to envy that of your treacherous Air Commander. And I wouldn't be the one to lower you from your high elite level, oh no. You two, my friends, deserve nothing less than the big spotlights tonight."

"What the slag are you talking about?" Dirge asked.

"The humans pay a fortune to race a Decepticon… but you wouldn't believe how much they paid to witness a real Autobot-Decepticon fight."

"Autobot…?" Dirge repeated, looking at his recently painted red insignias. "You're not saying…"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Dirgy boy," Swindle said with a smile, patting Thrust's shoulder. "You are to battle this evil Decepticon Seeker tonight."

"What the frag…? First, I'm _also _an Evil Decepticon Seeker, and one who doesn't give a pit about what you say! If I'm fighting someone tonight, that will be you, screw head!"

"Mmmh, I don't think so. If you know what's good for you, Dirge, you will fly down there and exchange some good punches with your wingmate."

Dirge hesitated, his fists clenched with frustration. "Did you fry a microchip? These humans will see we have the same design! They'll never believe we belong to different factions, even with these slaggin' badges you painted on my wings."

"Never underestimate the humans' stupidity. They will believe what you tell them to believe. Showtime now, guys! Give me a good spectacle and I'll be very generous with the earnings."

Now it was Thrust's turn to get infuriated. "You are more slagged than I thought if you believe we're going to obey you. We are Elite Seekers, you filthy piece of Combaticon junk! There is no way I'm going to fight Dirge, no slaggin' way!"

Swindle smiled cynically. "Oh, but you will, Thrust, you will… You don't want me to inform Soundwave that you both refused to accept the valuable teachings I generously shared with you tonight, do you? I don't need to say that once that piece of information reaches Megatron's audios, the consequences won't be nice for you two. Our dear leader has big plans for your so called Seeker Gestalt… You don't want to ruin them, do you?"

"This is blackmail!" Dirge cried.

"Just a bit of friendly persuasion between fellow Combiners. Now would you please proceed below? You will notice that the humans have already created a circle with their vehicles. Give them a good show. Remember, I'll contact your comm links to notify you who will be the winner. This is the first time I've done this and I can't predict how the bets will go."

Dirge grimaced and shook his head, not knowing who he despised more, Swindle or himself, about to be part of a circus for a bunch of organic creatures. "So you don't know who will win, huh? As a_ heroic_ Autobot, I feel it's my duty to complain about your methods."

"Complaint acknowledged, my dear Autobot, but ignored. Now you know what to do. Transform and roll out!"

………

Dirge and Thurst had been fighting for some minutes when Drag Strip came out from the trees at the top of the cliff and stood beside Swindle. The Stunticon was dragging the shattered carcass of a human racing car with one hand.

"What a pair of losers," the Stunticon said. "It's so obvious they are faking their battle. They are hitting each other with minimal strength."

"Perhaps, but the humans seem not to notice it. See? They are fascinated… You'd say they are witnessing Primus and Unicron battling face to face."

Drag Strip grimaced with contempt whilst he removed a small branch from his forearm. "Mmmph. These humans are so easy to impress… I have to say I'm disappointed, Swindle. You said you would find me some real rivals for tonight, and yet my victory couldn't have been easier. I'm still waiting for you to provide me a challenge worthy of my skills."

"And you will have it, Drago, you will have it… I'm already moving my influences to get you back on the F1 circuit, all legal and everything. I bet you miss your old origins, huh?"

"I can't miss what I don't remember. But as long as you get me some decent opponents, I'll race anywhere."

Drag Strip threw the battered human car into the bushes and turned around, clearly preparing to leave.

"Hey… Aren't you forgetting something, Drag Strip? I wagered you I would make those two Coneheads fight each other to entertain the humans, with Dirge using Autobot insignias."

Drag Strip's optical visor shone with anger. "I didn't think you were talking seriously, that's why I didn't pay enough attention to your stupid bet. So don't consider this a victory, because it isn't. You didn't _win _me, got it?"

"Whatever you say, my friend. But still…"

"Take the amount we agreed from my earnings tonight. I'm not into these races because of the profits, anyway."

That's all Drag Strip said before transforming and disappearing through the bushes at full speed.

Swindle smirked. Most of the Combiners hated competition, but he enjoyed the existence of other Gestalt teams. Manipulating their natural rivalries and taking advantage of their obsessions had proven to be a rich way of obtaining profits. If there was someone who knew exactly how to handle relationships between members of different Combiner teams, that was him, and that also included Autobot Gestalts, of course.

As he scanned the dented car Drag Strip had thrown and guessed how much Scavenger would pay for such a nice piece to add to his junk collection, Swindle activated his comm link and targeted the Coneheads fighting below.

"Okay guys, show's over. You're being a bit too enthusiastic, Thrust, which was good because most of the humans bet on you. Time for you to back down and let the good guy win. Remember the juicy profits awaiting, not to mention that I'll make sure to report to Soundwave what wonderful students you two were tonight. So, Dirge, you know what to do. Show that Decepticon creep who's boss!"

_To be continued._

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_This chapter was so fun to write. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did._

_Next update: Starscream will receive a lesson he will never forget. _

_Bear hugs to iratepirate for beta reading._

_Thanks for reading and for all your support, guys. Please leave me a review with your opinion. See you soon!_


	10. Becoming a Gestalt for dummies, part 3

**Chapter 10**

**Becoming a Gestalt for dummies, part three**

**Prologue**

**Briefing in the teacher's room**

"Your move."

Motormaster didn't reply, didn't even give any signal of having heard Onslaught.

Onslaught wasn't offended by being ignored, too busy scrutinizing his fellow Combiner team leader. It would have been easy to say that that was a mech Onslaught didn't like.

But such dislike wasn't instinctive, even less born from some sort of stupid Gestalt rivalry.

Onslaught didn't like Motormaster because of simple, practical facts:

1. Motormaster had been created with the specific purpose of leading the Stunticons. He hadn't earned it.

2. Motormaster lacked of military knowledge. His tactics were guided by brutality, not strategy.

3. Motormaster served Megatron with blind loyalty, openly accepting Earth as his and his teammate's supposed kingdom.

4. Motormaster led a team of failures, doomed since creation by their flawed personality components.

5. Motormaster had made violence the most important part of his relationship with his teammates. A proper Commander should never, _ever, _hit his subordinates.

Such facts couldn't be ignored when the time to form an opinion about the mech in question had come, but Onslaught's processor was impartial enough to compute another, very different, list:

1. Motormaster was fearless on the battlefield. Despite his lack of military education, he faced potentially deadly combats with undeniable bravery.

2. Unlike most Decepticons, Motormaster did not fear Optimus Prime and didn't waste any opportunity to confront him.

3. Motormaster understood the meaning of the chain of command. Misguided perhaps, but he was someone who respected – and most of the time imposed – hierarchies.

4. Motormaster protected his team. His violent discipline was ultimately primitive, but he was also capable of dying for his subordinate glitches.

Onslaught needed a fifth item to equal the odds, thereby enabling him to emit a fair opinion about a rival that wore his same badge. Analytical and practical as he was, the Combaticon leader had made good use of the current opportunity. It wasn't frequent, after all, being alone with the commander of the Stunticons.

Curious about Motormaster's intelligence – one of the most important assets of any mech – Onslaught had asked him, as casually as he could, if he would be interested in a chess game to kill some time before they, on board Astrotrain, reached their destination.

Surprisingly, Motormaster had accepted, perhaps too bored or too proud to admit he didn't know what chess was. But whatever it was, Onslaught knew that Motormaster had nothing to prove. The Stunticon leader could be unaware of some basics, but he was also beyond pretenses.

And foolishness too, as the brutal Motormaster demonstrated by absorbing the rules of the game so quickly. After a cautious and calculated beginning, Onslaught acquired the evidence he was looking for concerning the sharpness of Motormaster's processor. As predicted, the Stunticon leader was no fool and was giving an honorable battle on the adapted, Cybertronian-sized board.

"You have been staring at that rook for almost a breem," Onslaught spoke again.

"And what was that? A complaint?" Motormaster replied roughly without detaching his gaze from the small metallic piece.

Onslaught smirked behind his face mask. "Not at all. Take your time."

Already computing thirteen combinations for the next possible twenty five moves, Onslaught wondered if Motormaster realized that he could tie the game, which currently seemed lost for the Stunticon leader.

An uncomfortable feeling took shape inside Onslaught. It wouldn't be the first time in which Motormaster turned the waves of victory to his favour… Was that luck, or was that novice combiner team leader really a genius?

Onslaught hadn't forgotten – and never would – that the Stunticons had stopped him and his Combaticons from defeating Megatron – and consequently Starscream. It would have been so easy, not to mention pleasing, to crush the one who had put Onslaught and his team into a detention center to rust. But Menasor had gotten in the way, guided by some stupid loyalty that four of his components definitely didn't share, a loyalty that had been embedded, not acquired through respect…

Because it had been Motormaster who had made the decision to intervene in a conflict that was already decided, it had been Motormaster who was behind one of the most humiliating defeats Bruticus had ever received, and by the fist of a recently formed Gestalt robot, to make things worse…

But those were personal matters, and Onslaught was far too cold and logical to allow memories or feelings to influence his decisions.

Motormaster made his move, settling the conditions of the game.

Onslaught's countenance, of course, would have never reflected his surprise, and not precisely because of his face mask.

"It's a tie," he finally said, after a last analysis of the board.

Motormaster glanced at him with severity. "I accept no ties."

"By immobilizing my knight, you also killed any possibility of my current attack continuing, so unless you make a fatal mistake or are so kind to withdraw your rook, this game will go nowhere. It's a tie."

For a moment, it looked like Motormaster would tear down the board, but finally he rested his back on the bulkhead behind him and calmly materialized his sword.

"It was a stupid game, anyway," he said, starting to try the edge of his favorite weapon on his own thumb.

Other Decepticons may have done that same thing in some pathetic display of bravado, but Onslaught knew that Motormaster was also beyond those childish games. The Stunticon was genuinely testing his sword, anxious to put it into action.

"_We are reaching our destination. Prepare to land," _Astrotrain's deep voice could be heard. Despite hating transporting his comrades in arms, Astrotrain hadn't accompanied his words with insults or ironic comments, not to mention that he had remained unusually silent during the trip. But that was nothing to be surprised about. Astrotrain was arrogant and aggressive, but he knew better than to provoke two Combiner team leaders that would have no problems turning him into slag.

Onslaught stood up. "You will have your chance to break this tie, Motormaster, but know that this time I won't be exactly waiting for you to make your move."

"Good, because this would be very boring otherwise. I already told you, I accept no ties," Motormaster replied, not paying the smallest bit of attention to the thin but deep gash he had opened on his own finger.

Astrotrain landed and opened his hatch. _"Good hunting, guys. Have fun."_

Onslaught offered his hand to Motormaster. "Let the best mech win."

Motormaster gave one short look at the hand extended toward him before slapping it away in a sort of half salute, half disdainful gesture. He hadn't finished subspacing his sword again when his transformation cog was already in motion. In a matter of astro kliks, the King of the Road was ready to claim his kingdom and, of course, his prey.

Onslaught didn't hurry to transform. He watched Motormaster moving through the foliage, tearing down trees as if they were not there.

A new smirk spread beneath the face mask of the Combaticon leader. Onslaught was satisfied. The game would certainly be interesting.

* * *

**Subject: Introduction to the Combiner leader's world, or deciphering the meaning of the phrase 'Survival of the fittest'.**

**Imparted by Motormaster and Onslaught.**

The first thing Starscream remembered was that he actually didn't remember anything.

His body felt numb, his servos absent, every single circuit slowly returning to functional status…

So his processor started to work. Returning to consciousness without excruciating pain meant only two things: he had been recharging, or he was coming back online after an overload.

The first option was not to be considered; he didn't usually wake up from recharge mode upside down and with his wings half-embedded in the ground. As for the second possibility, he hadn't interfaced in a while, although the clumsy position he was currently in suggested otherwise. But, of course, if he had been kinky enough to end up with his legs above his head, he would have at least remembered what the slag he had been doing and with whom.

Then he felt it, the terrestrial grass between his fingers, the dirt underneath his impeccable paintjob, the tree branches trapping his right leg…

Starscream jerked and fell to the ground, hurrying to get to his knees and realizing that he definitely hadn't gotten some the night before. He was surrounded by the disgusting and already well known terrestrial vegetation. His memory banks immediately transported him back to a time not so long ago, when he had awakened on the island of Guadalcanal, full of resentment but also of hopes when he had managed to return the Combaticons to functional status. But, like every time he had tasted glory, he had fallen down beneath the lowest Pit, as had as his ambitions of becoming the Decepticon Supreme Commander.

Perhaps it was happening again and he had been exiled from the Nemesis, carried unceremoniously by Laserbeak to some wet and sticky island…

But just as humiliation was beginning to take shape in his processor, he remembered. He remembered everything.

His fists found the ground beneath him as he began to curse Megatron with all the hate his processor could compute. His presence there was Megatron's fault, just like practically everything that was wrong with his life. As a part of those ridiculous lessons his wingmates were supposed to be taking with some of the other Decepticon Combiners, Megatron had insisted that Starscream needed a lesson about leadership.

Starscream snorted. He, the Tyrant of the Firmament, the Decepticons Second in Command and Aerospace Commander, the fastest Cybertronian flier… needing lessons about leadership?

Nonsense!

But then again, there he was, dragged to that place against his will, served in a dish and ready to become the prey of two of the most brutal Decepticons ever built. At least Megatron had had the decency to inform him about that before shooting him with a stunning ray.

Of course, Megatron had also had the decency to inform him that he would be stripped of his rank, not to mention his life, if he dared to leave the island before the lesson finished. But when exactly was that accursed so-called lesson going to end? When his spark extinguished?

As his energy levels returned to normal status and the mist evaporated from his mind, Starscream decided one thing.

He was _not_ going to be anybody's prey.

* * *

Motormaster was not precisely a tracker.

Stealth had never been among his tactics and he didn't intend to include it; it was one of the many faces of cowardice.

And a coward was precisely his target, the only thing that made his current mission less irritating. He had been against the idea of the Seekers becoming a combiner team ever since Soundwave had informed him about it, but Motormaster had accepted it without any protest, as he did with every decision Megatron made. Megatron was wise and powerful, his orders and authority were never to be questioned.

So when Megatron ordered him to go to that terrestrial island in the middle of nowhere to hunt Starscream down, Motormaster had accepted immediately. Personally, he highly disliked the Decepticon Second in Command, and that mission would give him the opportunity to punish, even if slightly, what he had always considered a despicable and dysfunctional element. On the other hand, Motormaster also lamented the waste of time. The time he was investing on hunting Starscream represented the loss of valuable hours that he could have used training with his team, correcting the many irregularities they still had in battle. If at least the other Stunticons could have been there with him, he would have been sure to make that lesson useful, if not to the prey, to the hunters, no matter if they all ended up in the Repair Bay at the end.

But solitude didn't worry him. He alone was more than enough to take Starscream and Onslaught down. There were two enemies on that island as far as he knew. He didn't trust Onslaught any more than he trusted Starscream, one as treacherous as the other. If the Combaticon had thought Motormaster could lower his defenses with that stupid board game, he was very mistaken. Unknown to Onslaught, Motormaster knew what chess was. He had seen Dead End playing it sometimes and he had managed to absorb the rules before smashing the board on Dead End's head, criticizing the loss of time that human invention represented.

Motormaster activated his radar. He could drive for hours until no tree was left standing, but patience had never been his forte. He knew Starscream would be hiding, too cowardly to confront him, and he also knew that Onslaught would be sneaking around, waiting for the perfect opportunity to take the advantage.

Of course, Motormaster wasn't expecting to detect any energy signal, not unless he had Dead End's radar, but his surprise was no small when he detected the unmistakable energy signature of a Seeker a couple of miles away.

Was Starscream becoming more stupid by the day or was he trying to set Motormaster up?

Knowing the Seeker, the second option was the most probable, if not the only one. But Motormaster maintained his course. He was not afraid of anything Starscream had prepared for him, as he was very certain that nothing could stop the one that was meant to crush Optimus Prime one day.

He wasn't surprised when he was welcomed by a storm of laser fire, gentle caresses to his force field. But when three of his eighteen tires couldn't resist the attack, Motormaster decided it was time to proceed to the next and ultimate phase. Fooling around had never been his thing, after all.

He transformed, his imposing structure exposing itself with all its might; thick and powerful servos returning him to robotic mode. When his right arm finished the transformation process, Motormaster's sword was already in his hand, ready to pierce anything standing in its way.

But not only was his sword ready to kill. Motormaster also materialized his atom-smasher cannon and started to obliterate the vegetation around him like a true carrier of doom. Soon there was nothing left standing, nothing but hunter and prey, face to face and ready to settle the score.

"Is that all you got, Motormaster?" Starscream asked, sneering beside the only rock formation more or less intact. "I wasn't expecting less from your subtlety. Nice to see you didn't disappoint."

Motormaster stared at the arrogant Seeker with infinite hate. He honestly didn't understand why the slag Drag Strip was so infatuated by that worm.

He started to advance towards his target with nothing more than murderous intentions. "What better than some fire to force a rat to leave its hole?"

Every step raised burned debris and seemed to resound around the entire island itself, but Starscream didn't retreat. Motormaster wasn't displeased. He really wanted to end that game fast and return to the Nemesis as soon as possible. Wildrider and Drag Strip had been particularly restless that day, and there was no way to know what the slag they would be up to without his guidance.

He was very close to Starscream when hell started. Explosions happened beneath his feet, flames wrapped him in a deadly embrace, toxic gases sneaked between his joints… Any other Cybertronian would have fallen to never get up again.

Any other.

* * *

Starscream smirked with satisfaction and enjoyed the view. He hadn't expected Motormaster to fall so easily into his trap, but anything to ease his current predicament was welcomed. Of course, planting his entire reserve of cluster bombs under a cover of grass and expecting the Stunticon leader to step on it had been very optimistic, if not naïve, but it had worked in the end.

Of course, he couldn't rely on such kind of foolish tricks to take Onslaught down, so he had to choose a new course of action. Starscream turned around, rerouting his thoughts to his remaining enemy, but he didn't go much further. A sound behind him reminded him that it was Motormaster who had taken his recent attack and not any other Transformer.

Starscream grimaced but didn't change his arrogant attitude. He had considered that slight predicament, of course, but if Motormaster was not destroyed, at least he would be damaged, and thus, weakened.

"Seems that I underestimated your force field," Starscream said, raising his arms toward the tall silhouette that could be seen within the grey smoke. "I wonder if it can take a generous dose of null rays as well."

Starscream didn't wait and shot with all he had. He impacted Motormaster several times, but the Stunticon didn't fall.

_Slag! Slagging force field, slagging ground pounder brute, slagging Megatron—_

Quickly deciding that his weapons would be useless against that rival, Starscream activated his thrusters and abandoned the ground. Being an open target in the air with an anti-aircraft expert such as Onslaught in the area was definitely a very bad idea, but Starscream realized that his only chance against Motormaster relied on the sky.

But he had just gained some mechano meters when Motormaster's sword came out from the fog with impressive speed and impacted Starscream's left leg. His survival instinct, as awake as his arrogance, prevented him from losing the entire servo, but one of his thrusters took the damage, forcing him to return painfully to the ground.

"Now I ask you," Motormaster said, calmly moving out of the thick smoke cloud. "Is that all you got?"

Starscream repressed a groan of pain and seized the sword lying at his feet. He would not go down without a fight, he would not go down at all…

Motormaster smirked when he saw Starscream intending to use his own weapon against him. "Be careful with that, little Seeker, it's too heavy for your hands. Swords are made for mechs, not for children."

"Children? I'm thousands of vorns older than you, you freak!"

Even Starscream himself admitted how easy he fell for provocations. But anger was what he needed in that moment, otherwise his fear would win the battle and he would be doomed.

He attacked Motormaster with all his strength. His training in sword fighting was very basic – most of it given by Megatron himself in very painful sessions intended to harden him. But he had his fury and pride, his biggest weapons, to fill the blanks.

Motormaster blocked the attack with his atom-smasher cannon, which proved to be as resistant as the armour of the Stunticon himself. Starscream cursed in silence but attacked again, this time opening a thin but deep gash in Motormaster's forearm.

The Stunticon didn't show any signal of feeling pain, but Starscream was satisfied. Hurting an enemy was always pleasant, especially when the enemy was supposed to be undefeatable. It seemed that Motormaster's force field had received some damage, after all…

Motivated by his chances of victory, Starscream's third attack was much more careless than the previous two. This time the sword didn't find the thick metal of his enemy's frame; this time the sword found the hand of its owner.

Starscream realized his mistake too late. He struggled, trying to retrieve the sword but Motormaster's grip didn't ease; it wouldn't do, not even if his arm were severed from his body.

"I told you," Motormaster said with a voice made to be feared. "Swords are not for children."

A powerful kick to his middle section sent Starscream flying backwards. He landed on his back, his wings taking most of the damage. He tried to get up but Motormaster was faster. In an astro second he was above Starscream, his knee firmly pressed against the Seeker's chest and the tip of his sword grazing the grey face of his victim.

Motormaster smirked. Brutality and sadism were so easy to read in his hard features. "I wonder if Drag Strip will still like you when I'm finished slicing your face."

"Get off me! Dare to touch me with that thing and I'll have you melted servo by servo! I'm not one of your Stunticons to beat as you please! I'm your superior! You'll face a military tribunal and a court-martial if you continue this madness! Get off me, I said! It's an order!"

"Order?" Motormaster laughed, pinning Starscream's head to the ground with one hand, keeping the edge of his sword very close to the Seeker's face. "I take no orders from weaklings."

Panic was rising inside Starscream's processor. He had no doubt that Motormaster would have no problems in dismembering him, and he would enjoy it too.

"Wait!" Starscream cried. "Weren't you supposed to teach me something about being a Combiner leader? I understood! I understood! I won't step into your territory, I swear it! Trust me, I was against this project ever since the beginning! It was Megatron's insane idea—"

Motormaster grimaced with disdain. "So typical of you, to blame Megatron for your own flaws. I know one thing about Combiner team leaders: We. Never. Whine. This league is out of your reach, Seeker, so you better go back to hiding under your recharge berth once I finish cutting you up."

Starscream's cry honoured his name when the edge of the sword pierced his shoulder. The pain was unbearable, but not as much as his humiliation.

And then he saw it, the small light at the end of the tunnel, the trace of hope at his reach… There was a small opening in Motormaster's chest. Circuits could be seen sparking within the twisted metal. Starscream's cluster bombs had served their purpose, after all…

And Starscream would finish the job. Guided by his desperation, he punched the wound with all the strength he had left. Just as he thought, Motormaster's force field had finally given up and nothing stood in the way of his fist. He felt the wires twisting around his fingers right before he shot his null rays again, doing his best to produce all the damage he could. But nothing produced him more satisfaction than Motormaster growling. In pain or anger, it didn't matter. Motormaster was hurt and Starscream was about to become the teacher.

"Attacking a superior officer is high treason, Motormaster!" he cried, making good use of the temporary paralysis of his enemy to kick him in the face and making him retreat. "I'll make sure to punish you for your insubordination! You may be a ruthless brute, but now you will learn that you are still millennia away from defeating the Decepticons Second in Command, _your superior!_"

Despite being seriously injured, Motormaster was an enemy that Starscream didn't want to have close, so he relied on his element again. His left thruster was still non-functional but his right one would have to do. He savored victory again when he left the ground. From the sky and without a force field standing in his way, Starscream was sure he would have no problems taking Motormaster down.

But Starscream remembered once again the big weakness his self-confidence was when a photon missile impacted his middle section. Completely unable to remain in flight, he collapsed on the ground. Within his agony, he could see the dark blue anti-aircraft truck with his double-barreled cannon still smoking, parked so calmly among the burned vegetation, patiently waiting for his turn.

When Starscream's frame hit the ground, he could also hear the sound of Onslaught transforming to his bipedal form. Trembling in pain and fear, he saw the Combaticon leader approaching, sonic stun-gun in hand.

"W-wait…" Starscream pleaded. "You owe me, Onslaught… I saved you and your Combaticons from that detention center… you only function because of me…"

Onslaught stopped and tilted his head. "Yes, and we were also labeled as traitors because of you. I owe you much, indeed."

Starscream struggled to get up but his efforts were useless. Onslaught's missile had destroyed his equilibrium chip, among other components. Without repairs, standing on his two feet was not an option anymore. His intelligence was his one weapon left, and he would make sure to use it. Onslaught was no fool, but he had a weakness to exploit.

"This can't be a victory for you," Starscream continued, doing his best to swallow his pain. "Shooting an enemy from behind… not the style of a mech who prides himself on his honour…"

"Honour is not precisely a word you should use, Starscream, being unknown to you as it is. My orders are to defeat you and bring you back to the Nemesis, no matter your status. I see you defeated enough, no need to continue this useless practice."

"It wasn't you who defeated me!"

"Debatable opinion, and useless as well. I recommend you shut your vocalizer unless you want to return to the base in stasis lock. Although now that I think about it, you deserve to witness your own humiliation."

Despite his suffering, Starscream smirked. "I appreciate your generosity, but I prefer to watch others embarrassing themselves. Speaking of which, Onslaught, perhaps you should take a look behind you…"

"No tricks are going to save you this time—"

Onslaught couldn't finish. A powerful arm trapped him in a head lock and dragged him backwards.

"Starscream is my prey to retrieve!" Motormaster roared.

Onslaught struggled but couldn't get rid of Motormaster's embrace. Injured perhaps, but the Stunticon leader was a formidable rival.

"Let go of me, Motormaster! This is no longer your concern…"

"You interrupted my fight. It is my concern!"

"I… I'm not the enemy, you fool. We are to return Starscream to the Nemesis, not fight between us!"

"_I_ will return Starscream to the Nemesis! You have nothing to do with this combat."

"Nothing but my strategy! Can't you see I had all this planned from the beginning?"

"Guys, guys…" Starscream said, seizing the opportunity to get out of there in one piece. "There's no need to fight. As the prey, I think I have a clearer opinion of who deserves to… retrieve me."

Onslaught and Motormaster stopped struggling and fixated their attention in the fallen Seeker.

"Ahem, alright…" Starscream continued. "In my humble opinion, it was Motormaster who did most of the job…"

Motormaster increased the pressure of his head lock on Onslaught. "That's nothing but the truth!"

Starscream shook his head. "But Onslaught's missile decided the battle right before I had the chance to settle the score in my favour…"

Onslaught managed to turn his head aside to watch his attacker. "See? It was a tie, then."

"I accept no ties!" Motormaster growled.

"Does the concept of team work mean anything to you? We were sent together, we both received the same orders from Megatron…"

"I was sent on a mission on my own! I do not work with Combaticons!"

Starscream smirked. "Seems to me there's only one way to solve this misunderstanding…"

Onslaught shot the Seeker a hateful glance before starting to struggle again. "This is the last warning! Let go of me, Motormaster, or you'll get hurt."

"Hurt? Interesting concept, Onslaught, especially considering not one of your Combaticons is around to do your dirty work in your place. Will you finally fight a battle by yourself or you will keep hiding behind your foolish strategies? That's cowardice to me."

Onslaught jerked violently, managing to get rid of Motormaster's grip. "You better be careful who you call a coward! My mind is my battlefield indeed, but you should know that if I get involved in violent actions it will be only to terminate my target, and you are about to become one!"

Two astro seconds later, both Gestalt leaders were on the ground, dust being their battlefield as they exchanged punches destined to offline each other. Starscream couldn't have been more pleased. If only he could manage to get airborne, everything would be perfect. But if there wasn't such a thing as perfection, he would make sure to reach the next best thing.

Using the burnt trunk of a tree as support, he got on his feet. His 'hunters' didn't even notice him; it was as if they had completely forgotten about his existence and their so called mission.

Fortunately for him, Starscream's targeting system was still functional. Even with both combatants in constant motion, he had no problem finding what he was looking for. Motormaster's force field was down and it would have been easy to aim at his fuel line, but Starscream still had an unpaid debt with Onslaught, not to mention that the Combaticon leader still carried a little reminder of his former alliance with the Seeker.

As the Decepticon Second in Command, Starscream was very aware of the 'modifications' Megatron had ordered to be carried out on the Combaticons to ensure their obedience, namely a small but lethal bomb directly connected to their energy absorbers. If the Combaticons wanted to remain able to refuel themselves, they were forced to tolerate such an invasive device in their systems. Starscream had always known that little piece of information, although he never expected it would come in handy so soon.

But fate only smiled on the opportunists; the ultimate proof was that Starscream himself was still alive and kicking.

"News flash, you dolts! The winner of this pitiful hunting session has just been defined, and that's me!" he yelled whilst shooting a full charge of null rays against the flat little device that his radars found, perfectly hidden among the metal layers of Onslaught's back.

The fireworks couldn't have been more beautiful to Starscream's eyes, although he was disappointed that the explosion didn't destroy the two Gestalt commanders. Anyway, the damage was severe, and the sight of Onslaught on top of Motormaster, both intertwined in the dust in a position that looked more affectionate than they would have wanted, made Starscream burst into laughter.

"My, my… but what an endearing image! I'm sure all your subordinates will find it quite interesting. And now that I have you two lovebirds' attention, you better hear this: you may feel very proud and powerful in your petty position as Gestalt leaders, but compared to me you are nothing! You are eons away from barely grazing what I have achieved, so understand once and for all that no matter how brutish and tough you think you are, you will always be beneath me! Until now you were very comfortable in your small Combiner world, but my team and I have arrived and plan to stay. Soon you'll be nothing but spare parts in the scrapheap, you hear me? Spare parts! No matter if you're Stunticon, Combaticon or Constructicon slag—"

Onslaught and Motormaster flinched and covered their optics from the small but powerful explosion that sent Starscream flying several mechano meters before forcing him into stasis lock.

And there, among the cloud of smoke and debris, the winner of the game was standing, his green and purple colours shining and pristine. Despite the face mask covering his features, it was easy to guess that he was not excited by his victory, but rather bored.

"He shouldn't have included the Constructicons in his definition of slag..." Scrapper said, slowly shaking his head and returning his laser pistol to subspace. "Now, would you mind leaving your interface session for later and comm Astrotrain? I've already wasted too much time here and I have a lot of work waiting to be done, including three repair sessions that weren't scheduled."

With that, Scrapper turned around and lost himself within the remaining light of the fading sun.

Dusk had arrived.

**Lesson finale. **

**Special appearance by Scrapper, leader of the Constructicons, also known as the Quiet Psycho.**

_To be continued._

_

* * *

_

_There is a big picture of Scrapper in the Cybertronian Fail Blog with a big WIN beneath._

_There were a couple of mentions of the G1 episodes 'Starscream's brigade' and 'The revenge of Bruticus' in this chapter, two of the best episodes of the series in my opinion._

_The idea of Drag Strip having some sort of obsession with Starscream was taken from QoS and it was used with her permission. Also, my take on Motormaster was inspired by her Stunticon stories. Many thanks to her!_

_Also, lots of hugs to my dear sista iratepirate, always there to correct my typos and to daydream with Transformers._

_Stay tuned for the next chapter. Now that the 'lessons' have ended, guess which is the next step?_

_See you soon and please let me know your opinions._


	11. Chronicle of a merge foretold, day zero

_Thank you very much for your awesome support. I'm so glad you are enjoying this story, which is being very fun to write. _

_Now that the 'lessons' are over – seriously, who learned something? – the Seekers are ready... yeah, ready... to merge, or at least that's what they say. Let's join them in their journey to become a super robot, shall we? _

_Many thanks to iratepirate for beta reading :o)_

_

* * *

_

**Chapter 11**

**Chronicle of a merge foretold**

**Day zero**

_Nemesis Headquarters, Storage Room X-07, 2131 hours._

"Dust…" Dirge complained, passing the tip of one of his fingers over the old surface of a marred container. "Couldn't you have chosen some other place to meet, Starscream? I hate what dust does to my joints."

"You are not the only one, so stop complaining," Starscream spat, standing on the top of an old cannon support.

"Why did you summon us here and at this hour, anyway?" Skywarp asked. "I had a date with a femme at Maccadam's Old Oil House and you ruined it!"

Starscream shot a glance of contempt toward his wingmate. "If you have to ask such question, Skywarp, you are even more moronic than I thought. And that goes to all of you. Have you forgotten what day it is tomorrow?"

From his place beside Dirge, Thrust shrugged his shoulders. "Decepticon Day? It has already been a human year, hasn't it? Remember the parade those flesh bags staged for us? It was kind of fun… Megatron should trick them into thinking the Autobots are bad more often. I miss the public adoration."

Ramjet smirked. "Yeah, I miss it too, especially when I volunteered to take some of those humans on a flight and I ended up throwing them all over the Grand Canyon… Ah, those were the good times..."

"Silence, you fools!" Starscream shouted. "I'm talking about the event that will happen in just a few breems! Machion is supposed to merge for the first time!"

"Who's Machion?" Ramjet asked, kneeling and taking a look beneath the rusty seat he had been occupying. "Hey, did you guys know there are actually terrestrial cockroaches in this place? I wonder how they managed to sneak in…"

The seat exploded into pieces, cockroaches included, as Ramjet was propelled backwards.

"_We_ are Machion, you idiot!" Starscream cried, his null ray rifle still smoking. "And you better remember it if you want to continue functioning, do I make myself clear?"

"What a lousy sense of humour you have, Screamer… that's why you never get laid," Thrust said, helping Ramjet to get up.

"Oh, he does get laid. Have you seen the inflatable dolls he has in his quarters?" Skywarp sneered. "Creepy slag."

Another shot impacted the empty space which Skywarp had been occupying.

"This is a conversation we should have had days ago, Starscream," Thundercracker said as Skywarp reappeared right beside him. "But of course, I guess you were very busy having your aft repaired after Scrapper slagged you on that island."

Starscream's optics shot red daggers. "I was unfairly ambushed by three Gestalt leaders. I don't need to tell you that every one of them will consider it a victory if we don't succeed in our merge tomorrow. And not only them, the whole Decepticon army is expecting us to fail!"

"Well, that's true," Dirge said. "I saw Swindle taking bets on the success of the big event. 98.17% of our dear comrades think we won't make it."

"And what about the remaining 1.83%?" Thrust asked.

"They think we will be destroyed during the first attempt."

"How charming…" Thundercracker said somberly. "I have to say I don't disagree with the odds… We are supposed to merge into a giant robot and the truth is that we have no clue about how to make it happen."

"Speak for yourself. Thanks to Hook, I can merge into a very decent left arm," Skywarp said proudly, although the memory of the painful lesson received gave him a chill in his spark.

Dirge clenched his fist and hit his own hand with frustration. "See? That's exactly the problem. Maybe you actually learned something, but the only thing the rest of us learned is that every single gestalt robot in the Decepticon army is a piece of scum!"

"I heard about your little adventure travestying as an Autobot, Dirge," Starscream sneered. "Be careful, you may like it."

"Why you…"

"At least you idiots actually did something," Thundercracker interrupted. "I spent more time keeping my distance from a crazy Stunticon that had more interest in fulfilling his fantasies with me than actually teaching me something."

"You should have complied," Thrust said. "Maybe getting laid would ease that annoying, bitter temper of yours."

Thundercracker took a threatening step forward. "Repeat that again and I'll make you repent it!"

Starscream positioned himself between his two wingmates, both ready to engage in violent actions. "See? That's why everybody predicts our failure! Tell me – and that's directed at all of you dolts – when was the last solar cycle we didn't fight, at least once?"

Skywarp rested his chin on his fist. "Mmmmh… that would be the day we left the assembly line?"

Starscream pushed Thundercracker and Thrust away roughly. "That's exactly what I mean! Nobody considers us a team because we are not one!"

Already recovered from Starscream's shot, Ramjet confronted his Air Commander. "That applies to you and your idiotic trinemates, Starscream! Dirge, Thrust and I are a perfect team."

"Just because you frag each other like petro rabbits doesn't mean you are a good team, RJ," Skywarp said, grabbing a metallic cone from the floor and putting it on his head. "Hey, don't you guys get confused sometimes? Whose cone head is this? Is it yours, Dirgy? Oh no, I bet it's Thrustie's… Oh RJ, I think I just lubricated myself…"

"Interfacing with your teammates is not only logical, but a necessity if you want to reach perfect coordination. Laugh as much as you want, slagger. In the end, you and your trine are inferior."

"I don't need to frag Skywarp or Starscream in order to coordinate with them," Thundercracker growled. "And for the record, I am _not _going to interface with any of you, got it?"

Ramjet shrugged his shoulders. "Well, go and interface with a bulkhead then, you boring aft head."

"Enough with the interfacing issue! I summoned you all here for something important, slag it!" Starscream cried, exasperated.

Thrust burst into laughter. "But of course, you'd only care about the interfacing issue if the one fragging you was Megatron—"

"I said enough with the nonsense! Are you deaf or just stupid? We are just some breems away from becoming the laughing stock of the entire Decepticon army and all you can talk about is about fragging nonsense!"

"Alright, alright, let's focus," Dirge said. "As much as I hate all this combiner madness, you have a point, Starscream. To tell you the truth, my trinemates and I are very worried about the results of this charade. We have a reputation to protect."

"I wasn't aware you had a reputation," Thundercracker spat, folding his arms across his chest.

"You fools are making a storm out of nothing," Skywarp said. "I already tried this merging thing, and it's not that difficult."

Ramjet smirked. "True. I mean, the Autobots can do it, and now even you can… it must be a piece of energon cake."

"As a matter of fact it is, RJ. Why don't you try it yourself, huh? Come on, transform into Machion's aft!"

"Huh… me… right now…? I don't think so… And what do you mean by aft? I'm the middle section!"

Starscream shook his head. "I have always dreamed about the day when you imbeciles will finally listen to something I say… My orders about quitting the stupid comments were serious!"

Skywarp turned around to address his commander. "And I'm following them, Screamer. All I'm saying is that we should try to merge right now. If we succeed, we won't have to face public humiliation later."

"I'm surprised you actually use your processor sometimes, Skywarp… That would be the logical solution, indeed, but unfortunately our transformation cogs are partially blocked. Megatron expects us to attempt merging for the first time in his presence. If you could transform before it must have been because Hook temporary liberated your transformation cog."

"Then why the slag did you make us come here?" Thundercracker complained. "To strengthen our bonds of friendship?"

"You know, Thundercracker, I have to agree with Thrust about your utterly bitter temper… But no, combiner members don't need to be _friends_. They are more than that. They have a special bond."

"Bond…? As in bond mates?" Thrust asked.

Starscream rolled his optics. "No, you idiot. I'm talking about the Gestalt bond, the one that allows combiner team members to not only merge into a single giant robot, but to actually become one."

"Huh… I don't see the difference, really."

"But of course you don't, Ramjet. I wouldn't have expected anything more from your cerebro shells. But more than understanding, we need to feel and become part of that link. Now make a circle and sit on the floor."

"Are we going to tell ghost stories?" Skywarp asked.

"Yeah, one about an idiotic black Seeker who got shot in the head! Now sit, our time is very limited and there's a little mental exercise I want to try."

"Whatever…" Ramjet said, signaling his trinemates to comply. "I just hope you know what you're doing, Screamer."

"Of course I do!" Starscream snapped as his wingmates started to form a circle on the floor. He discreetly approached Skywarp and grabbed his arm. "And when we are done, there is something I want you do to for me."

"Do you want an update of my porn collection again?" Skywarp said cheerfully. "I got some new femme on femme videos that will make your spark burn!"

"No, no… well, maybe later… But no! What I need you to do is introduce an image file into the main computer database. I want every Decepticon in the Nemesis to see it by dawn."

"An image?"

"I'm transmitting it to your data banks right now. Lower your firewalls."

Skywarp remained motionless for an astro klik before bursting into laughter. "Oooh slag, this is priceless! Screamer, I'm your bot! Your order will be fulfilled effectively, Commander! Gee, you should give me missions this amusing more often…"

* * *

_Nemesis Headquarters, Stunticons Rec Room, 2312 hours._

The cheers and laughter ceased as soon as Wildrider opened the double doors before him. It didn't matter, though, mostly because said cheers and laughter came exclusively from his own head. It had been a long time since Wildrider had stopped trying to differentiate the things that were real from the ones that weren't. As far as he was concerned, real or imaginary meant the same thing, and hence everything was destined to be forgotten. Thus it was better for him to let any thoughts out of his systems, or risk forgetting the more important things for good. One of the disadvantages – or was it advantages? – of being insane.

But if Wildrider would have bothered to take a look at his brothers' faces right after entering the room, maybe, just maybe, he would have had realized that it would have been better for his life expectations to shut his vocalizer up and hide the data pad he was carrying – or at least blow it into pieces.

"Hey! Did you guys see this?" he said cheerfully whilst he showed the image that had mysteriously appeared in the Nemesis database less than a breem ago. It was an interesting image, in which Motormaster was laying on top of Onslaught, the mouth components of one attached to the facial mask of the other one, both Gestalt commanders intertwined in a very compromising, not to mention romantic, position.

Wildrider kept talking, paying no attention to the frenetic shake of the head Breakdown addressed him with. "Seems like the boss got himself a boyfriend—"

Wildrider couldn't finish. In less than an astro klik his head was grazing his knee, one of Motormaster's hands fiercely grabbing him by one of the spikes beside his temples.

"Uh… boss….? You were here…?"

Motormaster increased the strength of his grip, almost touching the floor with Wildrider's head, who could barely stay on his feet.

"Dead End, give me a report of the Repair Bay schedules."

From his very uncomfortable position, Wildrider could see Dead End's optic visor illuminating slightly. Perhaps he was accessing the base databank to look for the information requested by Motormaster, or perhaps he was consulting what Dead End called the countdown for ultimate shutdown. He had done some weird calculation of the days left till the end of the world, ciphers and statistics that Wildrider definitely couldn't understand.

"According to Scrapper's report, the Constructicons are in recharge mode for the rest of the cycle, authorized by Megatron himself after they worked three solar cycles in a row to repair the damaged soldiers that returned from their… huh, hunting mission," Dead End said, unemotionally.

Motormaster considered for a moment what he had heard. "So, no green robots awake to attend to a last minute patient," he said, more to himself.

"I'm afraid not," Dead End responded. "The report states that Long Haul is mounting guard, but his repairing abilities are not to be trusted."

Wildrider fidgeted slightly, trying to ease the pressure on his head. He wondered why Motormaster hadn't slagged him yet. When his leader wanted to punish him – that meant, like twice a day – he always beat the slag out of him without any preambles. Maybe his new romance had softened him somehow?

"Huh… boss? I… I meant no disrespect. Actually, I think that you and Onslagger, sorry, Onslaught… would make a lovely couple."

A muffed guffaw, followed by a hard metallic sound, exposed Drag Strip's lack of control, and the immediate corrective lesson he had received. Wildrider managed to look ahead and caught a glimpse of Drag Strip, kneeling and rubbing his head.

"A lovely couple," Motormaster growled between dental plates, walking toward the wall and dragging Wildrider behind, never releasing his spike. The Stunticon leader embedded Wildrider's data pad into the wall and impacted his subordinate's face against it. "Does this look like a lovely couple to you, you idiot? Can't you recognize a fraud when you see it?"

Wildrider couldn't have recognized anything. The data pad had broken as soon as his face had been slammed against it. What did Motormaster expect him to see? Black, broken pieces of glass, or the mild damage report his HUB was already displaying? It wouldn't hurt if Motormaster explained things to him once in a while, it wouldn't hurt at all…

But wait, it was actually hurting… but Motormaster wasn't explaining anything… What the hell was happening?

"I'm waiting for an answer, Wildrider, and you should already know I hate to wait."

"Wha… what was the question?"

"That slagging picture you were carrying. Was it real or was it not? Tell me!"

"Ah… er… can I comm Swindle to confirm-?"

Wildrider's head was brutally slammed against the wall again, destroying any last trace of the disgraced data pad.

"Huh, Commander…" Breakdown dared to speak. "The Constructicons are not on duty and it would be… difficult to repair any last moment casualties…"

Wildrider felt Breakdown's fear through the gestalt bond, sensing that his teammate was certainly cowering from a very intense and threatening stare from Motormaster.

"Are you _suggesting _something?" Motormaster roared.

"N-no, no, of c-course not!" Breakdown stammered, bowing his head at once. "I… it's just that… Megatron's orders..."

And then Wildrider actually remembered something. Megatron's orders? Megatron's orders! Of course, all Combiner Teams were expected in the main training room at dawn. Wildrider didn't remember the exact hour but Megatron always programmed things to happen at dawn. At a meeting of such nature, all troops were supposed to attend in optimal status. Megatron didn't like his Decepticons looking like a mess, meaning that dents, cracked optics and amputated limbs were out of the question. Then Wildrider was saved, because he was a Stunticon, but he also was a Decepticon.

He felt the pressure on his spike ease. Motormaster released him, allowing him to stand on his two feet again – two complete feet, yay! But his happiness was short.

"When our business with Lord Megatron is done, I want you at my personal quarters first thing. Understood?" Motormaster told him with one of his most threatening tones of voice.

"Ye… yeah…" Wildrider managed to reply, although in his mind he was realizing that such visit could be misinterpreted, if Onslaught found out… Slag, why did romantic relationships have to be so confusing, especially if they involved Gestalt leaders?

"So what now?" Drag Strip spat, as always forgetting so easily that Motormaster could slag him twice before he finished blinking his optic visor. "Are we just going to let that new Gestalt robot form? And what about us? I had enough of Mixmaster today, arguing that it was Scrapper who took Starscream down on that island and not you. It was you, right boss? The Constructicons didn't win, right? Erm… you didn't damage Starscream that badly, did you?"

"We are Megatron's Gestalt," Motormaster said seriously, ignoring Drag Strip and focusing on the only thing that mattered to him. "We were built by his own hands and honoured with his trust. It doesn't matter if the Seekers, or the Insecticons, or the Triplechangers form a Gestalt… we are above any Combiner Team and we will prove it."

Drag Strip seemed disappointed. "You mean we have to put up with that new gestalt robot?"

"I mean," Motormaster said darkly, "that we will show Megatron that we will always be his main support, and we will do it by slagging that creature made of Seekers. Stunticons, as soon as he forms, I want him dead."

"Whoo hoo, now you're talking, boss!" Wildrider cheered. He actually didn't have anything personal against the Seeker Gestalt, but any occasion in which Motormaster slagged somebody else instead of his teammates was worth celebrating. On the other hand, it had been fun to have Thundercracker actually listening to what he had said, although the Seeker had refused to play along and take him prisoner…

Well, maybe some other time. Meanwhile, Wildrider wondered if it would be a good idea to ask Motormaster about the seriousness of his intentions with Onslaught. If they were to become bond mates, did that mean that Onslaught would lead the Stunticons too? Would Wildrider become some sort of Combaticon – without the bad attitude, of course?

Then he remembered his recent painful experience and he realized that nope, it wouldn't be a good idea to exteriorize such doubts.

Or would it?

* * *

_Nemesis Headquarters, Combaticons War Room, 2304 hours._

Onslaught was fashionably late, Blast Off thought, although Onslaught was never late and was definitely not fashionable. The only explanation for his commander's absence had to be related to the repairs he had been undergoing in the Constructicons laboratory for almost three solar cycles now, but according to the rosters he should have already been released.

Blast Off hoped so. He was bored. He was bored of having to stand Vortex and Swindle's pathetic jokes, of having to hear the same story of how Brawl killed an entire squad of Autobots by himself…

The Combaticons were usually very organized, but the absence of their leader was always an excuse to waste time. All that Blast Off wanted was for Onslaught to return and restore order. All that Blast Off wanted was to return to his eternal assignment of monitoring Earth from outer space. All that Blast Off wanted was to go back to that peaceful solitude and submerge himself in the pleasures offered by the human television networks… Slag, he had already missed two season finales of some of his favorite shows…

A touch on his arm pulled him out of his train of thoughts. He looked over his shoulder and saw Swindle, standing before him with a data pad in hand.

"Earth to Blast Off, over," Vortex said from his seat, almost immediately returning his attention to the screen of the main computer, which was exhibiting a documentary about the human period known as Inquisition.

"What do you micro-brained maniacs want?" Blast Off asked.

"I love it when you insult us, Blast," Swindle said, smirking. "It sounds so… sophisticated. Now, how many cubes do I sign you up for?"

"Excuse me?"

"Energon cubes, for the wager, of course. I'm running a new one. How many merge attempts do you think the Seekers will try before Megatron calls the experiment off? The odds are on three... Big Megs has no patience, heh."

Underneath his face mask, Blast Off grimaced. "Forget it. I won't take part in your dim-witted game."

"Aw, come on… Didn't you earn a ton of energon cubes that time I advised you to bet on the human Football World Cup?"

"That was because you replaced the referees with facsimiles."

Swindle laughed. "You can't blame me for securing my earnings… Unfortunately there's no trick this time. I'm just trying to make this new Gestalt robot thing a little bit more exciting. We all know those Seeker slaggers will fail, but that doesn't mean we can't have some fun in the process, right?"

Vortex mumbled a curse when the big monitor before him blackened.

"What the slag is wrong with this thing?" Brawl said, punching the console with more strength than a lifeless machine would require. In that moment, the monitor came back to life, displaying the image file that it had just received.

Blast Off and Swindle turned around, only to be greeted by a full size picture of Motormaster and Onslaught engaged in some sort of kiss despite Onslaught's facial mask. It seemed that they were about to interface.

"What the frag..." Brawl mumbled before Vortex burst into laughter.

"Well, this is definitely something we don't get to see every day," Blast Off said, his boredom suddenly reaching an end.

The screen illuminated with a generous dose of extra light when the doors of the Combaticons' War Room opened.

Blast Off didn't waste time in greeting his commander. "Perfect timing, Onslaught. Is there something you forgot to tell us about your… hunting excursion to the human island?"

"In other words, who was the victim and who the prey," Vortex said between laughter.

Onslaught acknowledged the infamous picture with a cold stare. He walked slowly toward the console and turned the monitor off. Before addressing his teammates, he for once broke his rule of not hitting his subordinates and shook Vortex's head with a powerful blow.

"There is, actually, something I forgot to tell you," he said as Vortex fell to the floor. "Megatron has commanded us to attend the Seekers first attempt at merging. We will be there and we will make sure they fail."

"In other words, let's slag those lubricant-suckers!" the fallen Vortex happily cried.

Blast Off nodded. "Finally, some action. Let's get this done, then. The sooner I return to my outer space post, the better."

"Yeah, and I want to go back to our own base in the Middle East. The Nemesis is boooring. Not enough bots to crush," Brawl said.

Swindle grinned. "And it's never too late to take control of those camel races again… I bet those humans in the desert are missing me."

Onslaught clenched his fists. "It's official now. Combaticons, we will personally make sure that Machion will never come into existence!"

_To be continued._

_

* * *

_

_Maccadam's Old Oil House was an underground tavern located in one of the sub-levels of Cybertron, the best place to get wasted with black market fuel. Autobots, Decepticons and Neutralists were welcome. I wrote about a place like this in the first fic I ever posted in this site. I may rewrite it using the old Maccadam place instead, also because I wrote it in a rush and I wasn't convinced with the final result._

_There is also a reference to the G1 episode "Megatron's master plan, part 2" in this chapter, in which the humans made a day to celebrate the Decepticons. Some of the best scenes of the whole cartoon are in there, such as the little boy disguised as Megatron, and all those girls flirting with Soundwave in that teen party. Such a shame the cartoon didn't specify the date of such celebration, otherwise we could keep partying!_

_I also did a little reference to the Football World Cup. I'm not a football fan myself, but I couldn't resist the little hint. ¡Felicidades a España, dignos campeones! _

_I hope you enjoyed this chapter and see you soon! Day one of this chronicle will be fun._


	12. Chronicle of a merge foretold, day one

_Uh, it's been a while since I updated… sorry for that, but I hope you will like what's to come._

_As always, I want to thank you for your reviews and support. That goes to my beta reader iratepirate too, always there to encourage and inspire me._

_I strongly recommend listening to The Blue Danube whilst reading the first part of this chapter. You can find it very quickly in youtube. Trust me, the reading experience will be better. I'm a total Stanley Kubrick sucker, by the way!_

_

* * *

_

**Chapter 12**

**Chronicle of a merge foretold**

**Day one**

_**Nemesis Headquarters, Storage Room X-07, 0257 hours.**_

Dirge tried to stretch his servos, but all he could stretch was the void surrounding him. He chuckled. _"Right… I have no servos."_

"_Hey Dirge," _Thrust greeted him as he floated beside him.

"_Sssslag Thrust… your head is so cone shaped, so cone shaped…"_

Thrust laughed. _"Dumb aft, I have no head…"_

The infinite became dark grey and Starscream's frown wrapped them.

"_Focus, you dolts!" _he tried to yell.

"_Mmmh… this is better than high grade…" _Skywarp said as he glided gracefully. _"Hey guys, did you see? No wings…"_

The gigantic face of Starscream looked around. _"Thundercracker, where the slag are you?"_

Skywarp pointed backwards. _"You know TC… he has never been able to hold his high grade. It seems that he can't handle the gestalt bond either."_

Thundercracker's annoyance appeared suddenly from the wall of oblivion. _"I can perfectly handle this gestalt bond nonsense, I just don't like it!"_

Ramjet's laughter reverberated through the entire place without limits. _"What's wrong, Mr. Personality? Are you afraid we may peek into your darkest secrets? Oh my, I can't wait to take a look in your deadly boring processor. I'm being sarcastic, by the way."_

"_You really have an obsession with sneaking into other robots' minds, don't you Ramjet? But no, that's not it. I just hate the idea of having my processor connected to yours!"_

Starscream's presence surrounded his wingmates like a suffocating circle. Hands without fingers everywhere, a shinny and tricolor frame, two crimson slots that seemed to see everything…

"_You will shut up right now or so help me I—" _

"_Fool, we aren't even talking," _Dirge said.

"_You know what I mean! Do I have to remind you that we are running out of time? In less breems than you can actually count we will have to merge in front of Megatron and those insufferable Combiner Teams!"_

Invisible wings flapped against more invisible wings in tacit understanding. Seeker competed against Seeker, Seeker couldn't stand Seeker, Seeker cared only for the Seeker he could see in the mirror, but when circumstances tightened their grip, Seeker united with Seeker against the entire Universe.

Imaginary but tangible tendrils embraced each other as the dormant Machion started to yawn. Foreign, but so familiar at the same time.

"_Slaggg… Is this me… or you, Thrust?" _Ramjet shook his head, but suddenly it was Skywarp's head that he was grazing. _"Beats me… I think it's Starscream… For the Primary Program, what the frag is happening?"_

Starscream's reassurance was even more screechy than his voice. _"We are becoming one. Shut up and continue the interlink protocol."_

"_Mmmh… this doesn't feel that bad…"_

"_Get off me, you geek! You're invading my personal space."_

"_Hey TC, if you wanted to be alone with Thrust all you had to do was ask," _Skywarp giggled.

"_I don't! It's just that I feel as if he were squeezing my mind… It's hard to explain. Back off, geek, I mean it!"_

Starscream's annoyance spread through the inexistent air. _"It's all part of the merge, fools. Shut up and endure it, Thundercracker. We are wasting precious astro kliks here."_

Thrust snickered. _"You heard the boss, TC. Now open your stiff mind and allow me to… oooh slag… Did you…? Is this real? Did you actually frag the entire Autobot Female squad?"_

Thundercracker retreated, only to find a thick wall that popped out of nowhere. _"What the… get out of my head!"_

Skywarp pushed his way into the cloud of shame and lust. _"What? Are you serious, Thrust? Why didn't you ever tell me, TC? Slag, you know that has been my fantasy for vorns!"_

Starscream punched Skywarp, or at least he tried to; not having fists could be very disadvantageous. _"Stop gossiping like humans and focus on what we are doing! This gestalt bond is not going to hold forever unless we… What the frag? Elita One too? Thundercracker, you twisted screwhead!"_

"_You interfaced Optimus Prime's lady herself? Are those female Autobots that desperate?"_

Now it was Thundercracker who tried to exercise a little bit of violence. Unlike Starscream, he seemed to succeed because he could feel Ramjet's pain when he hit him.

"_I interfaced no one! But what else could be in your minds, except the one thing you do all the fragging day?"_

"_Jealous, jealous," _Thrust giggled. _"And a liar too."_

Thundercracker growled in anger and charged at the gestalt bond. The entire colorful Universe tingled as certain data from every processor was stripped.

"_Let's see," _his revenge spoke, _"you three Conehead slaggers interface three times a day… no surprise there, but rather boring. Skywarp has a sick fetish with human breasts – don't look at me that way, 'Warp, it is sick. And Starscream… oh slag, Starscream…"_

"_How do you dare to invade my intimacy? Get the frag out!"_

Ramjet snorted. _"Since when has Starscream having the hots for Megatron been a surprise? Please!"_

Surprise or no surprise, suddenly frames returned to the exterior world in a rather painful way. Six Seekers were thrown out brutally from a place that still felt so foreign to them, but they didn't have time to realize what was happening as their backs hit the metal beneath.

"Now that was rude…" Skywarp said, sitting on the floor and rubbing his rear plates. "We didn't even make it to phase two."

"We can't make it to phase two because our transformation cogs are partially blocked, remember? We can't transform into our Combiner forms," Thundercracker retorted, onlining and offlining his optics. "Besides, I don't think we will reach phase two by sneaking into our most intimate secrets."

Ramjet waved a fist toward Thundercracker. "Look who's talking, rustbucket! It was you who forced our doors open!"

Thundercracker shot him a deadly glare. "Excuse me? You invaded my privacy first!"

"When I say shut up I mean it this time! Any idiot who interrupts the interlink again will know about my fury!" Starscream shouted, standing up with an agile jump. "Now come here immediately and we'll try it again! The countdown to ridicule is expiring and we cannot afford to lose!"

Once again, the greater cause of team pride united the six mouthy Seekers. In other words, it was them against the world, a world that seemed determined to laugh in their faces.

* * *

_**Nemesis Headquarters, Training Room, 0701 hours.**_

Starscream entered with the royal pace of a king, his loyal troops scattering through the room as soon as they trespassed the threshold behind him. Oblivious to the looks of hate and contempt thrown in his direction, he directed his steps toward the center of the place, not bothering in hiding his delusions of grandeur. He knew he was above all the mechs gathered there.

"Well?" he said, addressing the three Combiner Teams gathered in the room, each one of them keeping a safe distance from the others. "And where is our glorious leader, I wonder? I would have thought he would be the first in line to witness the new Decepticon Gestalt form for the first time."

"You mean the new Decepticon Gestalt failure?" Onslaught said. "I'm sure Megatron has better things to do."

Starscream smirked and turned toward the Stunticons. "You better control your boyfriend, Motormaster. I would have thought that by now you would've already shown him his place. Unless, of course, you are not the one on the top… in both senses of the word."

Swindle, Wildrider, Vortex and Drag Strip burst into laughter. Fortunately for them, the thunderous guffaws of the Constructicons and the Seekers overwhelmed their disrespect with a level of decibels that would have shadowed the sound of ten torpedoes exploding.

Motormaster took a furious step toward Starscream, but his aggressive prelude was overcome by a red dot that appeared on the Seeker's forehead.

Starscream didn't move; he kept standing, arms crossed and wearing his usual smirk as the aim of Onslaught's gun remained fixed on his helm.

"What? Are you going to shoot me now, Onslaught? Go on, I'd like to see you try and fail, _again." _

Something that sounded like a snort came from Onslaught's vocalizer as he lowered his weapon. "Failure is something that you can achieve perfectly well without any help. I will allow you to exercise your field of expertise all by yourself. It won't take long for you and your minions to realize what a failed merge means."

"You brutish slaggers must know that very well, don't you?" Skywarp said threateningly, pointing a finger toward the Combaticons. "I have never been able to tell Bruticus' head from his aft. By the way, which one of you tail pipe-suckers chose that retarded name? Sounds more like Idioticus to me."

Onslaught lifted one arm and contained Brawl, who had already started to advance toward Skywarp. "Keep talking, Seeker. We'll see if you keep doing it when you face me without your wingmates backing you up. Cowards like you are unable to function on their own."

"Don't bite your own glossa Onsi—"

"Shut up, Skywarp!" Starscream said emphatically. "We didn't come here to fight."

"Wise statement, Starscream, although contradictory to your initial childish behavior," Megatron said, entering the room with Soundwave beside him.

The Stunticons and the Constructicons straightened their stances, all except Wildrider and Mixmaster, who were giggling as they exchanged hand signals in a sort of code they had created. Their respective teams had never been particularly friendly towards each other, but Wildrider and Mixmaster had understood each other practically since the first moment they locked optics. All the Decepticons said it was because insanity attracted insanity.

Motormaster interrupted the wordless communication by roughly elbowing Wildrider, almost throwing him to the floor with the impact.

The Seekers also assumed a martial position, except Starscream, who folded his arms casually and remained as indifferent to the figure of authority as possible. The Combaticons behaved in a similar way, having very little loyalty but an important amount of fear toward the Decepticons Supreme Commander.

"As always, it's a pleasure to see you, _leader," _Starscream sneered, remarking the last word with his usual sarcasm. "Although I have to say you are rather late. I would have thought you would be looking forward to seeing the first merge of the Decepticons most powerful Super Robot."

"That last statement is yet to be proved," Megatron said before addressing all the Seekers. "You all have been honoured with the opportunity to become a Combiner Team. Show me you are worthy of such a privilege and rule the skies with the might that only a Decepticon Gestalt can achieve!"

Five voices answered in unison. The sixth one snorted with superiority in response.

"You will have your super warrior, Megatron! Thundercracker, Skywarp, Dirge, Thrust, Ramjet… at my signal!"

"There's something called the gestalt bond you can use to communicate with your teammates, you know?" Scrapper said, visibly bored. "Try using it sometime and spare us the unnecessary mumbling."

"If you can achieve the bond, that is… which I highly doubt," Hook seconded immediately.

Starscream shot a killer look to both Constructicons but stepped back and waved his head toward the center of the room. At his signal, Ramjet walked there and planted himself firmly on his two feet. Dirge and Thrust joined him, not even flinching when Ramjet activated his thrusters and stood on their shoulders.

The reigning awkwardness turned into snickers when Thundercracker and Skywarp flew toward Ramjet's sides and grabbed his hands.

"See?" Breakdown whispered into Dead End's audios. "I told you Seekers have a fetid to interface in public."

"The word, Breakdown, would be fetish."

Frank laughter erupted when Starscream positioned himself on Ramjet's shoulders.

"What the…" Vortex said between laughs. "Are you slaggers going for the Cybertronian Kamasutra?"

"No, they are cheerleaders!" Wildrider happily provided his opinion. "Way to go, girls!"

"I feel ridiculous," Thundercracker muttered, visibly disturbed.

Starscream grimaced from his place at the top of the pyramid of Seekers. "You look ridiculous! Don't give those idiots any importance and just do as we planned! Are you ready?"

"Gestalt bond, Gestalt bond," Scrapper insisted, tapping his arm.

"At least use your fragging comm link," Motormaster growled, watching the Seekers as if he were looking at something obscene.

Starscream seemed fond to continue talking but a quick look at Megatron made him think otherwise. Despite the literal uneasiness of his situation, he relaxed his face plates and dimmed his optics.

"Soundwave," Megatron said.

Beside him, Soundwave's optical visor seemed to blink. "Mindwave patterns enabled, Megatron. Gestalt bond in process."

Megatron approved with a curt nod. The slight smirk on his face was visible only to Soundwave.

"_Initiate the interlink."_

"_Uh… how exactly are we supposed to…"_

"_We already practiced it, Skywarp! Do as I fragging said and initiate the interlink!"_

"_Okay, okay… I'm just nervous, alright? Slaggit, Screamer, being the team leader is really getting into you."_

"_I SAID INITIATE THE FRAGGIN' INTERLINK!"_

"_Interlink initiated."_

"_You didn't initiate a frag, Ramjet. Just lower the firewalls of your neural processors. We did it all night!"_

"_Why don't you lower them for me, Thundercraphead? I dare you!"_

"_Don't mess with me today. I'm not in the mood."_

"_Are you ever?"_

"_Stop fighting and do as I command! I'm your Gestalt leader and Air Commander! I'll say it for the last time: Initiate the interlink!"_

Soundwave didn't move a cyber inch, but his presence seemed to spread through the room.

"Neural processors connected, Megatron. Interlink completed."

"_Frag! That telepath freak is already messing with our minds. Do you think he can tell what I did yesterday?"_

"_Nobody cares what you did yesterday, Skywarp! Now do as I command!"_

"_Phew, that's a relief… Not even TC noticed that I painted myself in his colours and claimed his Energon ration for the entire vorn."_

"_You did what?"_

"_Uh… did you actually hear that, TC? But I just was thinking…"_

"_We are gestalt bonded now. I can listen to your thoughts when the interlink is initiated!"_

"_Oh right... I had forgotten… This link is really something, isn't it?"_

"_I'm done with your idiotic rambling! Prepare for co-functional interlock now!"_

"_Mm, what exactly did we say that was all about?"_

"_Were you absent last night when we essayed this or is it just that you are a complete idiot, Thrust?"_

"_Screamer means transform into your gestalt mode, genius. In other words, RJ, transform into an aft plate and roll on!"_

"_Aft plates don't roll, Skywarp, not in this case at least. And stop messing around with Ramjet or so help me I—"_

"_You're such a cutie, Dirge, always defending your boyfriends."_

Soundwave turned to Megatron. "Interlock initiated. Cerebro shells unstable."

Megatron narrowed his optics. "In other words, all they are doing is talking nonsense… Starscream! Stop fooling around and continue with the procedure!"

Starscream looked at his leader with murderous optics, but returned his attention to the inner world that was barely opening for him. His optics dimmed even more as he returned to the five confused minds waiting for his orders.

"_Prepare for co-functional interlock. Thrust, Dirge, you go first."_

"_Ah slag… I don't know if I can…"_

"_Slag it, Dirge! Could you stop being such a cowardly slime bucket for a moment? Even Skywarp could do it!"_

"_Right! Even I could… Hey, what the slag was that, TC?"_

"_Shut up you two! Dirge, Thrust, now! Our transformation cogs are free now, I can feel it… Just let go and it will happen."_

Megatron's attention increased as soon as Dirge's form started to change. To the surprise of most of the mechs present– and annoyance too – the blue Conehead servos contracted and his frame extended. A big, although slightly twisted leg staggered before standing still. Above Dirge, Ramjet activated his thrusters to avoid falling, staring at his wingmate, who was now a leg, with astonished optics.

Starscream must have urged Thrust to follow, because he hurried to imitate his wingmate and soon two legs awaited for a frame to support.

"Holy slag… it actually worked…" Ramjet stammered.

Starscream slightly kicked the Conehead's shoulders, confirming the order he had already given. Ramjet's usual psychopathic grimace disappeared as he seemed to concentrate harder than he ever had before.

Drag Strip dared to approach Motormaster. "They are doing it…" he said in low voice as Ramjet transformed into his mid section form and attached to the legs beneath him. "What are we going to do if they make it?"

"_Your orders remain the same," _Motormaster replied through the Stunticons' Gestalt bond. _"And keep your slagging vocalizer shut if you want to still have it by the end of the day!"_

Thundercracker and Skywarp looked at each other and exchanged a high-five. "Our turn, 'Warp. Once a wingmate..."

Skywarp nodded and took a firm grip of his friend's hand. "Always a wingmate."

Skywarp transformed so gracefully that Hook couldn't help but approve. Of course, the one Seeker he had personally instructed had to be the best one. He looked at Scrapper with superiority and he could read the grimace beneath his leader's facemask.

Thundercracker wasn't as fast and definitely not as graceful as his wingmate, but his transformation into the right arm was completely successful.

Wildrider elbowed Breakdown with a shine of pride in his optics. "That's my boy… Sigh, they grow up so fast…"

Starscream stood on the headless gigantic body and addressed Megatron with his best stare of superiority. High heights seemed to fit him.

"And now, Megatron… behold Machion!" he screamed as his body transformed drastically, taking aesthetics to a new level. Machion's head was very similar to the face plates of Starscream, Skywarp and Thundercracker, but his helm was smaller, with two coniferous forms protruding beside that resembled angel's wings.

"Seems like they made it after all…" Vortex said, palming Swindle's shoulder. "You owe me fifty energon cubes and two pleasure drones."

Swindle sneered. "Not yet, buddy, not just yet..."

Two mechs were completely unimpressed by the monster staggering before their optics. As casually as if he were talking about an insignificant matter, Megatron turned to his loyal Third in Command.

"Soundwave, if you will?"

It was not common to witness Soundwave displaying his telepathic abilities, mostly because no Decepticon could tell he was doing it. But Stunticons, Constructicons and Combaticons knew for certain that that was exactly what the Communications Officer was doing when the giant's trembling turned into a shock and six dizzy Seekers hit the ground as if they had been expelled from a club they didn't belong to.

Megatron grimaced with contempt as he contemplated the pathetic spectacle. "Do you idiots think that merging is a matter of attaching to each other like severed limbs? It took Soundwave only a slight pressure to your neural connections to force your separation protocol. Get up, fools! Get up and do it again! Your Gestalt brethren are watching!"

Starscream was the first to get on his feet. "You should know better than anyone else that I don't give up, Megatron! I promised you Machion and I will give you Machion, even if I lose my life in the process… and yours too!"

Megatron smirked, accepting the challenge.

_To be continued._

_

* * *

_

_There was a small reference to my fic 'Interfacing has no enemies', in which Thundercracker spends some quality time with Elita One and company. I couldn't resist it :oP_

_Anyway, I wanted to take a swim inside the gestalt bond of the Combiner Teams. The canon has never been very clear about it; we just see the giant robots merging and that's it, but the mental connection must be even more awesome than the best hallucinating mushrooms trip ever. The Seekers may be arrogant jerks, but they have been flying together for ages and their coordination in the air is amazing, so making such a bond happen never sounded impossible to me._

_Update coming soon. Please let me know your opinions :o)_


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